


Minutus

by Helloootricksterr



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brotherly Bonding, Cuddling, Cursed Object, Destiel - Freeform, Gen, Protective!Cas, Realizing Feelings, Sam knows how they feel, Shmoop, Shrinking, grey-ace Castiel, human!Cas, protective!Sam, slight destiel to begin with, tiny!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-25
Updated: 2015-05-18
Packaged: 2018-01-16 22:40:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 54,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1364380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helloootricksterr/pseuds/Helloootricksterr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While searching the Men of Letters base, Dean finds a strange little statue. He shouldn't have picked it up. Now he's tiny, for three days! What's a hunter to do when he can't do anything?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. chapter 1

The Men Of Letters Bunker was really cool. Really, totally awesome.  
After spending most of his life on the road with seedy motels that most rats would turn their noses at, this was a real place to call home. And what a home it was! The Bat-cave had everything! Dean was pretty sure of that. Giant kitchen, endless halls, and enough books on the things that go bump in the night to keep even his nerd brother happy. Sam was happy here, and so was Dean.

  
Dean, who was catching up on shifter lore (apparently those bitches could live up to a century and a half!) decided he had enough and once he finished the book, he went back to the storage room where he found it. Thankfully, it was found in one of the closer storage rooms, among other shape-shifter items and lore. Putting the book back, Dean read a label off a jar of goo that proclaimed said goo to be shed shifter skin.

Eww.

Moving away from the jar of ick, Dean’s eyes fell upon a small wooden box. He couldn’t say what made him look at it, maybe because I was so plain. Everything in the bat-cave was so fancy, but this little wooden box looked like a pencil case made out of varnished plywood. Just at his eye level, Dean couldn’t look away from this plain piece. Surprisingly, this thing had its own classification code, and was separate from other items.

He picked it up, it was pretty light. He rubbed his thumb over the dusty top to read the letters inscribed on the top. But then his stomach growled and reminded him that he hadn’t eaten since breakfast and that was very wrong. Putting his stomach first, Dean pocketed the small box and headed to the kitchen.

  
After making himself a very fine specimen of a sandwich with a liberal amount of potato chips and a cold soda on the side, he took his lunch to the main room. Only to remember that he and his brother left the tables covered in old tomes and ancient books. Stifling a groan, he piled some books up and made space for himself to eat his lunch. He took a bite of his sandwich and sat down, feeling something long in his pocket.

Oh yeah, the box. Taking another bite the older Winchester pulled it from his pocket. The ride in and out of his pocket took most of the dust off the box. He used the cuff of his sleeve to clean the last of the dust off the top. It looked like someone carved it in with a knife. MINUTUS. That’s all it said. Turning it over there were no other words on it. There were two small hinges on one side but no lock. The Elder Winchester easily worked his fingernail under the other side. It popped open in two seconds. Whatever Dean was expecting to find, this wasn't it.

Red satin lined the inside of the box and pulling away a layer of red silk showed the box’s occupant to be a small silver statue about five inches long. It looked to be old as hell. There were faint etchings on the small obelisk that reminded Dean of ancient Roman and Greek art. His curiosity got the better of him. The hunter picked up the small obelisk and turned it over in his fingers. Why would something like this be with the shifter stuff? Was it something kinky? That thought made Dean cringe and he moved to put it back in its box when the thing started to glow.

First it was pretty dim but within mere seconds it was uncomfortably bright, Dean shut his eyes as the small statue was grew heaver in his hand. Dean dropped with a yelp and covered his eyes with his hands. In seconds, Dean couldn’t see the bright light under his eyelids anymore and slowly drew his hands away from his face.  
He immediately wished he hadn’t. His legs now dangled from a gigantic height. He scrambled to stand up and gain his bearing. In front of him was a cliff, the bottom looked hard. He turned around to see a brown plain. He didn’t recognize any of this! But then he looked up.  
And saw the ceiling lamp that looked like a small sun, and the table.

“Oh no.” he groaned. Realizing what had happened.

“Shit. I’ve been shrunk.” A loud THUNK from above made him jump. One of the books must have fallen off the pile, he realized. And then another noise started. A heavy, continues thumping. In walked Brothersaurus. Dean’s eyes widened trying to take in all of his baby brother. He was HUGE! like a walking mountain!

“Dean?” His mountainous brother called.

“I heard you yell, what’s going on?” he looked for his currently absent brother.

“SAMMY!” Dean yelled, running to the middle of the seat and waving his arms and jumped.

“This so better not be a prank.” Sam crossed his arms, unamused, looking around. Dean stopped his flailing and yelling. Sam couldn't hear him, he was too small!  Sam’s eyes stopped at the table and a half-grin worked up the side of his mouth.

“You know the rule about leaving food out.” He said in a lower voice. Shit. His sandwich. They agreed that if food was left out in the open with no one claiming it before leaving, then it was up for grabs.

“Last warning Dean.” His brother called before grabbing the chair Dean was still currently residing in. uh oh. He was gonna die under his brother’s ginormous butt! Not the way he wanted to go. He sprinted for the back of the chair as his brother sat his large backside down in the chair.

Dean was just fast enough that the butt touched down milliseconds before he reached the back of the chair. Lucky for him the chairs were wide enough that even his brother’s mall-sized ass couldn't fill all of it. He had (to him) a good dozen feet between his brother’s backside and the end of the chair, which had space between the back of the chair and the seat itself. He quickly prayed his brother wouldn't fart. He wasn't sure if he could survive that. He heard jumbo munching away at HIS sandwich! What he needed now was to get Sam’s attention so they could fix whatever happened.

  
Dean took inventory. What did he have? He checked his pockets. One pocket knife, a few pieces of gum, spare change, two rubber bands, a pack of cheap matches, his cell phone, and a mini flask of holy water. He immediately went for the phone and pushed the speed dial for his brother’s cell. Which never rang. Apparently when your phone is smaller than a fingernail, it can’t pick up a signal. Dean cursed and put it and the other items back in his pocket. How could he get Sam’s attention? Should he go for the leg? Walking around his brother’s backside he encountered a long, big, jean clad leg. It was at tall as a house to Dean. If he climbed on top of a leg and stabbed his brother with the knife, he’d notice that! Just then Sam moved his gargantuan hand without looking down and idly scratched the leg opposite Dean. Dean swallowed thickly.

  
Nope. He did not want to die under his brothers fingers either. He had matches, should he set his shirt on fire? Another BAD idea. Which left only one other option. He craned his neck back to see his brother’s shoulder. He let out a sigh and moved to his brother’s backside. Luckily today Sam was warning a baggy flannel over shirt, which was easy enough for his miniaturized brother to find hand and footholds in. As he climbed, Dean let out grumble after grumble.

“Why’dja have to get so big Sammy? Who died and made you Godzilla? King Kong’s looking for a new girl, you’re big enough to be his mate.”  

Three quarters up, Dean sat in a large fold of the shirt, catching his breath. He judged his current size was between one inch and two. He was smaller than the plaid on Shirt Mountain. He took a deep breath and grabbed a new handful of shirt. A good thing too. Because just then Sam shifted and Dean lost his foothold as his brother moved.

“Damn it Sam.” He growled, pulling himself upward, closer to his brother’s head.

Less than five minutes later Dean had made it to the peak of his brother’s shoulder, very much out of breath. Sam was busy reading. It was usually pretty hard to distract him while he was immersed in a book. Once he caught his breath, he moved slowly over to his brother’s ear, didn't want to make Sam swat him off. He stared at the giant ear and the ridiculously long hair covering it. The sight triggered a memory of a book he read over two decades ago. Once he made it to the collar of the shirt safely, he held on tightly and yelled.

“SAM!” the response was instantaneous.

“Dean?” Sam replied, confused. He sat up and looked to the left where he heard his brother’s voice. His voice sounded small and far away. But it didnt sound like it was echoed like from a hallway. 

“STOP MOVING!” Dean nearly screeched, almost losing his grip on the thick collar from the sudden movement. Sam tensed and froze. His eyes moved around, searching for the older Winchester.

“Sam, this is very important. I found a weird little thing, and it shrunk me.” Sam relaxed slightly. And his shoulders moved once in a laugh.

“Shrunk you?” Dean could hear the smile in his voice.

“Stop moving! Yeah, shrunk me.”

“Where are you?” Sam asked softly. Dean appreciated it. His brother’s voice was very loud to his little ears.

“On your left shoulder by the collar.” Was the begrudging answer. The younger hunter leaned gently to his right to get a better look.

“I said stop moving! Look, bring your hand up flat to your shoulder, I’ll walk on.”

“Ok.” Slowly, Sam brought his right hand to his shoulder. He didn't know why he was surprised when he felt something small move onto his hand. Slowly he moved his hand in front of his face.

“Holy shit.” The tiny Dean on his palm raised his hands and let them drop to his side in a gesture of “I know. Shit happens to me.”  
He blinked, and then lifted his other hand to poke his little-big brother.

“Hey!” the Tiny Dean almost squeaked, swatting the large digit.

“Stop that!”

“Sorry.” answered an amused Sam who was not sorry at all.

“You’re just so-”

“Say cute and I’ll kick your ass.” His mini brother threatened only realizing that there was no actual threat being it as he was under three inches tall. Sam’s face was HUGE! Like Mount Rushmore way too close. Dean took a breath and steadied himself. This was Sam. His little brother. He was safe now.

“Small.” Sam finished, watching his brother slump in his palm, exhausted.

“What happened?”

“I found this small box, brought it here to examine, found a statue inside, picked up the statue, and boom, tiny town.” He said stretching his legs out in front of himself.

“What small box?” Sam asked looking over the table. Dean stood up and held on to the webbing between Sam’s thumb and pointer as he looked down at the Table below. The books were all over. He looked back up at his younger brother’s giant face.

“Some books must have fallen on it. Be extra careful Sammy. Don’t touch it!”

“Trust me, I won’t.” he moved both his hands to the table, and then brought them back, making Dean loose his balance and fall over.

“What’s the matter?” Dean questioned, folding his legs Indian style. Sam looked slightly uncomfortable and he glanced at his small brother and other places.

“If…if I’m moving stuff around, I need two hands. Where do I put you?”  Hmm. Sam did have a point. He couldn't be on the table with stuff moving around. The shoulder was too big and unstable, and no way in hell was he going in a pocket!

“Bring me over to your ear!” Dean said a few moments later.

“Why?”

“Just do it.” Sam frowned slightly but did as his brother requested. He moved his hand to his left ear. Dean moved some hair out of the way before looking at his brother’s ear. It was bigger than he was and that was more than a little unsettling.

“Can you hear me now?” Dean asked softly.

“Yes.” Was the reply.

“Good.” He said before climbing the back of the ear.

“Dean, what-” Dean draped his torso over the top of the skin that attached the ear to the head. His legs over the outer shell of the ear. He propped his head on his elbows.

“Still hearin me Sammy?”

“Dean, what are you doing?” Sam asked slightly confused and a little uncomfortable about the fact that his brother was behind his ear.

“Remember that book we found in a motel room when I was eleven? It was about a giant and a little orphan girl, and dreams in England.” Sam blinked at the memory.

“Yeah I remem-oh.” he remembered in the story how the girl traveled behind the giant’s huge ear. Dean had made a little Sam scream with laughter about traveling by ear.

“So you’re gonna travel by ear?” asked Sam not hiding his smile.

“Yup.”

“Is it comfy?” Dean looked around at his new perch. He could see everything in front of him. Sam’s hair was long enough that it fell behind his ears.

“It’s warm and I’m good. Thumbs up on the hygiene little brother, it’s clean.”

Sam started looking for the statue. Lifting the tops of books and moving them to the floor or chair. Dean found it was easy to hold on while his brother moved. His was definitely better than the shoulder. It was a little hard for the small Winchester to see the table. The books looked a little blurry because they were so far away to the miniature hunter.  
A lock of hair moved in front of Sam’s face and the younger Winchester moved to tuck it behind his ear as usual. Dean kicked his foot hard against the outside of Sam’s ear.

“Don’t even think about it.” He warned.

 

“Sorry.” Said Sam, letting the hair fall back. He had momentarily forgotten where his brother was currently residing. It wasn't long after that that Sam pulled a book away to find the small obelisk and its case.

“The case isn't cursed, is it?”

“Nah, I held it for a while, nothing happened.” Sam picked up the box, confused at the cheap exterior and the expensive interior.

“That’s what got me curious too. Curse boxes are usually much nicer than that. And much harder to get into too.”

“The Men Of Letters hideout is a pretty hard place to get into, Dean.”  The smaller man had no reply for that. Sam carefully used two smaller books to deposit the statue in its case.

“Where did you find it?”

“In one of the nearby storage rooms, near the shifter lore.”

“I guess you now know why it was by shape-shifter stuff. It definitely changed your shape.”

“Ha-ha.” Dean deadpanned, pulling on some looser skin over the ear for a better grip. He wasn't sure if Sam had felt it or not.

“I know where that room is.” The younger Winchester proclaimed while moving the chair back and standing up.

“Whoa!” Dean scrambled for a better hold, not expecting his brother to stand up.

“You alright?” Sam quickly cupped his hand over his ear.

“Just fine. Next time give a guy some warning.” Dean shifted, now sitting on the area his torso was draped over before. It was easier to hold the loose skin over the ear. Sam slowly took his had away from his ear.

“You sure you want to stay there?” Sam asked, a little amused at how his brother is so comfortable with this odd situation. Dean patted his brother’s head.

“I’m fine Sammy. Onwards! Giddyup!” he drummed his shoes to his brother’s ear.

“I’m not a horse.” He grumbled. But still here was a smile on his face as he walked to the storage room. Dean could feel his brother’s steps underneath him. It felt weird. Not bad, but weird. Nothing like driving his baby, or even a horse.  
Sam walked slowly and gently, there had to a better way for his brother to travel with him than by ear. Dean would probably kill him in his sleep if he suggested his pocket. His brother directed him to where he found the box. There was dust and a clean spot where the box had been. Sam ran his finger over the little plaque proclaiming the item to be R-397. They went back to the main room and the master file cabinets. Sam found the file easily and read it out loud.

“Item R-397, Ancient Roman obelisk, five inches long. Date created-unknown. The pictures depict the goddess Vespa, keeper of the hearth and the goddess of the home. This item has the ability to shrink a person to anywhere between three quarters of an inch and one inch and a quarter depending on the size of the person. The item was used to keep men at home, hidden from being enlisted in the army. The effect is temporary, lasting seventy two hours, with no ill effects on the person. Item does not work on other items, or non-humans. DO NOT TOUCH!”

“That’s it?” Questioned Dean. Sam flipped through the other pages in the file.

“Yeah. The rest is just the history of the item, where it was found, and who had it before the Men Of Letters got their hands on it.”

“You would think that they would put the do not touch first.” Dean pointed out, even though it was in a larger print and circled in red. Sam chuckled and put away the file as Dean’s stomach let out a large growl.

“What was that?”

“My stomach Sammy, that was my lunch you ate.” Sam winced.

“Sorry.” Dean patted the side of his brother’s head in understanding.

“Rules are rules. I wasn't there, you went for it.” His stomach again growled unhappily. He clutched his sad belly with an arm.

“Let’s get you something from the kitchen.” Sam suggested as he walked off, swallowing the laugh in his throat.  
Dean bounced on his big-little brother’s ear.

“Hi-Yo Silvah! AWAY!” if it was this easy to keep Dean this happy while he was small, Sam would make no comments about being a horse. Dean had to run out references sometime, right?


	2. chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pie is promised.  
> Outside is dangerous for a tiny person!

Sam had been very wrong. Oh so wrong. It had been twenty minutes since he had found his shrunken brother and the references Were. Not. Stopping. They weren't even drying up! Dean chose to look at this experience as his brother being a giant, not as him being tiny. Everyone had coping mechanisms, Sam realized, and this was Deans. But there was no end to it! Dean had watched all nine Godzilla movies and those weird horror movies with the giant bugs. Sam was King Kong. Sam was Mothra. Sam was the Jolly Green Giant. He leaned back in his chair in the kitchen and raised his face to the ceiling. Dean was hard to hear from this distance. Good.  
Huh. The ceiling tiles were reddish brown.

The mini hunter was finishing up his lunch. Two crumbs of bread, a tiny piece of chicken, a shred of lettuce and dollop of mustard. Dean had nearly stepped in the drop of mustard that Sam had made on a plate. It was the size of his boot. He looked up at his little brother, and saw the bottom of his chin and neck. He saw that he was pushing Sam’s limit with the giant jokes. He realized he should stop. There was nothing stopping the younger Winchester from dumping his older brother in a cup of water. Or something worse. Dean cleared his throat to apologize when Sam leaned forward on his elbows on the table. It was unsettling how his younger brother loomed over him like a skyscraper. More so than before.

“Dean, if you promise to stop the giant jokes, I will go out and buy you a piece of pie.”  
Dean shut his mouth and nodded fast. His eyes grew wide at the thought. A whole piece of pie, at his size! It would be bigger than his baby! Even though he had just eaten lunch the shrunken hunter’s mouth started to water. It would be one of his fantasies coming true. Well, minus several hot chicks and sex, but Dean was very okay with that.

Sam smiled, proud of himself for thinking of that. His brother was not above a bribe of food. Well, right now he wasn't above anything. Sam let out a small laugh from his nose at the thought. Dean was really tiny. Fucking miniscule! It was hard to hear him! He had to remind himself not to flick his brother off the table before, because that would probably kill him. A misplaced book could kill him. Hell, a sneeze at the wrong time and Dean could go flying, never to be found again! Sam shuddered at the thought. He blinked at the table.  
Dean had been waving his arms to get his brother’s attention while his mind was somewhere else. When Sam’s eyes re-focused in on him he waved his arm to the door.

“Come on! Let’s go to the store!” he yelled. He had to yell so Sam could hear him. Unless he was near his face or by his ear, Dean had to yell to be heard. Sometimes Sam forgot to speak low, and up close his regular voice hurt the smaller Winchester’s ears a little when he forgot. But he remembered when Dean put his hands over his ears. Sam placed his palm on the table and Dean scrambled on. The room was cold and Sam’s hand was warm. Dean had never liked flying, but being on his brother felt safe. He knew Sam would never let him fall to his death. (and again, wouldn't that be a sucky way to go.)  
Sam gently cupped his hand around his big brother (Christ, he was small!) as Dean leaned back on his fingers, bringing him to eye level.

“Sure, we could use some supplies.”

“Groceries Sammy. This is a home. You get groceries.” Sam cleared his throat.

“I really don’t feel comfortable going to the store with you on my ear, Dean.” He told his big-little brother in a very soft voice. Of course that took away any persuasion power that the sentence might have held.

“You could fall off in the store, hell, you might fall off in the car and I might never find you!”  Dean saw the logic in Sam’s argument. Not that he was ever going to admit it though.

“So put on a hoodie. If I fall, I’ll fall in the hood.”  Sam rolled his boulder sized eyes at his brother. The question of leaving Dean alone at the base alone wasn't even something to be considered.

“Yeah, as if I don’t look menacing enough at six foot four, I’ll wear a hoodie. If I’m lucky, maybe someone will call the police when I reach onto my pocket to pay!”  Dean sighed on his brother’s palm.

“Point taken. So where should I go?” Sam dropped his eyes and brought them up two seconds later. Dean folded his arms.

“No.” he stated firmly. He was NOT going in Sam’s pocket. Being totted around like a damn purse poodle. Sam lowered his log-sized eyebrows and his eyes narrowed into to what Dean recognized as a mischievous glint.

“No pocket, no pie.” Dean jutted his lower lip out in a pout. An itty-bitty frown.

“But Saaaaaam!” he complained, nearly whined! The bigger hunter tilted his head forward. Telling Dean that this was the ultimatum.

“Blue pill or red pill.” He stated with a half grin, mentally high-fiving himself for the reference. Dean walked forward on Sam’s palm, almost tripping on his brother’s lifeline, peering over the edge of his palm at the offending pocket, and back up at his dick of a brother who was smiling because he knew that he had won.

“First check the pocket for holes.” Dean stated. Sam shrugged.

“Sure.” He got up from the table, bringing the hand with his brother in it to his chest carefully. Dean stumbled with a bitten off yelp as the hand below him moved, fell and clutched a middle finger that was wider than he was.

“What the fuck man?” he yelled. He could feel his brother chuckle deep in his chest as he walked.

“I need to use the bathroom. Do you?” Sam rumbled. As tempting as the idea was to pee in Sam’s pocket, he would probably be stuck with it for a while. And Sam would probably (and literally) be pissed and retaliate with something far worse.

“Yeah.” He yelled upward as Sam made his way to the nearest bathroom. So far the brothers had found four. Sam was sure that there was more. They had yet to find a blueprint or useful map of this place even though they had been living here for over a month. Sam entered the bathroom and moved his hand to the counter of the sink. Dean hopped off on to the shiny countertop.

“How is this happening?” Sam asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

“What?” Dean asked, though where from Sam was standing it sounded like more of a squeak.

“Where are you going, to go?”

“Right here.” Dean cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled up at his mountain of a brother.

“At the edge of the sink?” Sam mumbled.

“Yes.” Dean definitively squeaked.

“Alright, just don’t fall in.” Sam said moving over to the toilet. He missed the “humph.” Dean let out but saw the crossing of his arms. He took care of his own business, when he was done a quick glance at the only color on the pale white sink counter showed him that Dean was done as well. Leaning over his brother on the sink he quickly and very thoroughly washed his hands. He dried them on the nearby towel and offered one to his brother. He did not miss the scowl Dean gave it.

“I just washed it! You saw!” Sam exclaimed. Dean had muttered darkly something that Sam couldn't hear and slowly clambered on to his palm. Sam slowly moved his hand to the faucet and tuned the water back on at a small stream and grabbed the bar of wet soap that he had used before and brought it to his tiny brother.  
Dean was thankful for the fact that Sam was being really considerate to his size. Everything was done slowly and carefully. It was kind of creepy when Sam had loomed over him to wash his hands, but Sam had made sure of where Dean was, he always was. It made Dean feel safe. Dean could feel his brother’s body heat. It felt nice. The bathroom was cold, and pissing on a porcelain countertop didn't help. He wished he had his jacket. But even after washing his hands in cold water, Sam’s hand was warm.  
After cleaning up Dean’s little meal and checking the pocket, Sam made his way to the entrance of the bunker and brought Dean up to his face.

“I’m gonna put you in my pocket now. Kick me if there’s an emergency.”

“Ok.” Dean replied, eyeing the pocket. Slowly, Sam moved his hand to his pocket, stuck his fingers in and gently tipped his palm on an incline. Dean slid down the palm and landed face-first into the soft pocket. He spat out a lint ball. What a rush! Like a slide! Maybe he could convince Sam to do it again. He pushed himself onto his feet. Sam had checked the pocket before for holes, so he wasn't going anywhere. Dean looked up to see two fingers parting the top of the pocket, part of Sam’s face and one eye.

“You good?” asked the younger hunter.

“I’m good, Sammy.” Dean yelled up. The material swallowed most of his reply, but Sam had understood. He moved away from the pocket and put his coat on. He softly patted his pocket. To Dean it felt like a whale gently bashing him into a barn. Twice.

“Hey!” he yelled, punching the chest behind him, and receiving hurt knuckles for his effort. Even under two shirts Sam had muscles like a rock. He could feel Sam chuckle deep in his chest behind him and lost his footing as Sam walked out the door. The smaller hunter fell to his knees and crawled to the nearest corner of the pocket seeking better stability. He fitted himself neatly in it. The pocket wasn't as bad as he thought. It was warm and comfy. He crossed his arms and legs. It was downright cozy, with Sam’s body heat and the flannel the pocket was warm but not stuffy. The pocket didn’t have a flap, but the jacket kept out the cold, late fall air. The pocket moved, but it wasn't totally unlike the movement of his baby. He felt Sam slide into the driver’s seat of his baby. He heard the familiar rattle of keys and the purr of the engine. But before the car moved the radio was turned on and fiddled with until a local radio station was found. Dean pulled himself to his feet and kicked at his brother’s chest.

“Driver picks the music and shotgun shuts his cakehole.” Sam stated simply, shifting the car into drive. Dean huffed and sat back in the corner as the latest top 40 played.

“But if you close your eyes/does it almost feel like nothing changed at all?  
And if you closed your eyes/ does it almost feel like you've been here befo-re?  
How I’m gonna be an optimist about this/how I’m gonna be an optimist about th-is.”

Ok, so maybe this wasn't the worst song ever. He shifted deeper into the corner and closed his eyes. He heard a gentle, yet constant thudding coming from the wall of a chest beside him. Sam’s heartbeat he realized a minute before the sound lulled him to sleep. In less than five minutes he was softly snoring

Sam drove not to the local supermarket, but a town over where there was a much larger and better stocked store. He grinned as he picked out the fixings for a salad without comment. He looked at his pocket and he could easily imagine Dean’s voice in his ear.

“Rabbit food Sam. If you are what you eat then you are a twitchy-nosed, humping machine.”  
He almost missed it. Almost.  
A large amount of canned foods went into the cart. Who knew how long a hunt would keep them away from the bunker. And these things lasted for years.  
Passing by the bakery section he paused, remembering his promise. The bakery selection was large, and a large refrigerated section displayed several different slices of pie, packaged separately for sale. It wasn't like he could look into his pocket and ask for an answer.

He picked out slices of apple, blueberry, lemon cream, and chocolate mousse. Even Sam had to admit that the pies looked delicious. He would probably eat the ones that his brother didn’t pick. Gently placing them in the bottom of the cart he continued on. He snagged a large bag of peanut M&M’s on his way out. Dean wouldn't be able to eat it for a while, but he would appreciate it anyway. He pulled his cash out of his pocket with a smile to the cashier who was a girl in her teens who blushed gently as she caught his eye.  
Three weeks ago Dean had found the Men Of Letters bankbook. With the help of the monkey suits and a few VERY official and old documents (and very real looking I.D’s) they proved that they were the sole inheritors of the investments and accounts left by the mysterious MOL. (It’s not like they were trying to steal money that wasn't already theirs!) Long story short, they had cash to spare. Sam liked to think of it as the inheritance they never got. As he put the bags of groceries back into the cart the cashier chirped:

“Thank you for shopping at Wal-Mart!” Sam blinked, crinkled his forehead slightly and tilted his head. The cashier girl blinked right back at him and her face grew bright red as she realized her mistake.

“Dan’s Market. Thank you for shopping at Dan’s Market.” She lowered her red face into her company sweatshirt. Sam laughed.

“No problem.” Giving her another smile as he walked out. Sam loaded the trunk and slid into the driver’s seat.

“Her face was so red! Dean?” he had expected a reaction from his brother.

“Dean?” he asked again, he pulled back his jacket and used two fingers to open the pocket. There was Dean, tucked away into the corner, fast asleep. He shifted and mumbled as the cold air hit him but he didn't wake up. Sam closed the pocket and sat up. Well, now he had some free time. His eyes were attracted to the familiar green and white of a Barnes and Noble bookstore. A grin tugged at his mouth as he got out of the car. First he headed for a computer to see if they had the book in stock, next he quickly rushed and out of the children’s section to pick up said book. It was never a good idea for an adult male to be alone in the children’s section of a store without a kid. Bobby once told them a story about a fellow hunter who was after a vampire who was snatching kids from a library in the winter, but he had been mistakenly jailed, after being noticed hanging around the children’s section of the library more than once.

He picked out a few books that he’d been wanting and went to the dvd section. Among his purchases was the sixth season of Dr. Sexy. Dean had been moaning about how he missed most of the season in purgatory. Y’know, FIGHTING FOR HIS LIFE OUT THERE! He hoped that the four disk set was enough to keep his brother happy and in one spot for a while. The cashier raised an eyebrow at the children’s book but didn't comment on it.

Sam drove back to the base, radio low. Dean was still sleeping after he brought the groceries in. Sam decided to let him sleep. He realized that the shrunken hunter had climbed up his shirt to get his attention. That must have been difficult. He understood that Dean must have been scared. He almost was sat on by his brother! Sam shuddered at that thought. He looked at his pocket and realized how scared Dean must be, he thought of what it would be like if their roles were reversed. If Sam was the one that shrunk. There would be more teasing, but Dean would still take the utmost care of his little brother, making sure he was safe until the curse wore off. Sam resisted the urge to pat the pocket. Instead he started on dinner. He had learned a few things over the years in kitchens despite never having a real one to call his own. He recalled an old recipe, and a quick internet search gave him what he needed. Without thinking, he made two servings. It was already cooking when he realized his mistake.

Dean awoke to the smell of fish. He stretched his arms out and flexed his chest in a catlike arching of his back. That was a nice nap. He opened his eyes and didn't recognize his surroundings. It came back to him a moment later. Oh shit. He fell asleep in Sam’s pocket! Were they still in the store? He could tell that Sam wasn't moving. Were they in the car? Why would his baby smell of fish? His dry tongue liked his lips, seeking moisture. Man, he could really use a drink. He grabbed the walls of his pocket bed and pulled himself up. Once he found his footing he gave the wall-like chest a mighty kick. He felt Sam startle. The shirt shifted as Sam sat up straight and looked into his pocket.

“Evening, sleepyhead.” He greeted. He stuck two fingers in the middle of the pocket and gently curved them, waiting for Dean to get on. An unspoken agreement went that Sam would not pinch Dean between his fingers unless absolutely necessary. Dean stepped on the small platform and flung his arms around a finger as it lifted out of the pocket. He winced and buried his face in it as the bright light burned his eyes. The pocket had been dim. Sam gently deposited him in his other palm.

“You okay man?” Sam asked, seeing Dean cover his eyes. Dean’s brain was still fuzzy with after-nap sleepiness, and the bright lights didn't help. The cold air cleared a little bit of the fuzziness away.

“Yeah, fine.” Dean blinked his squinty eyes, looking around. Taking a few moments to recognize the kitchen.

“What’s for dinner?” he asked taking a deep sniff of that really nice fish scent. Sam moved his hand to the table and Dean walked off.

“Baked salmon and roasted red potatoes.” Sam announced proudly. it wasn't often that he cooked. even rarer when he did it when he wanted to!

“Good job, I’d thought you’d have me eating veggies.”

“Potatoes are a vegetable Dean.”

“Not where it counts!” Dean protested.

“Would you put a potato in a salad?” he continued.

“Well no-“

“Then it’s not a real vegetable.” Sam moved away from the table to check the fish rather than continue this silly argument. Dean sat down on the table Indian style. He was really thirsty. Not for alcohol, just for a drink of any kind. Something wet. But Sam was way over there and purposefully not looking at him. He sighed. Slumped forward, and then lay on his back on the table spread eagle. Make it easier for the crows to get him.

“What are you doing?” said Sam who was suddenly blocking out the light from above like a thundercloud. A hairy, know-it-all, smart-ass thundercloud.

“I’m thirsty.” Dean croaked. He couldn't yell very loud, his throat was too dry.

“Oh!” said a surprised Sam. The thought had never crossed his mind. It wasn't like Dean could go and get his own drinks now. He searched the counter for something his brother could drink out of.  
He quickly washed out the smallest measuring spoon, he had used it for spices for the potatoes, filed it with water, and brought it to the table.  
He wondered how Dean would drink from it. The little hunter solved that problem by cupping his hands into the water and bringing his hands to his face. After slurping two more handfuls, Dean looked up at a sorry, hovering brother and thanked him.

“Next time just tell me when you’re thirsty.”

“I did!” He protested.

“Before you die of dehydration.”

“I was sleeping!” oh. Right. Sam sat down.

“I got you the pie. Four different kinds.”  Dean grinned. Dessert was gonna be awesome.


	3. chapter three

It wasn't long before dinner was ready. Sam found a plastic plate and tried his best to cut the food to fit his brother’s size. Dean wasn't concerned about the fact that the food his brother gave him was half his diminished size. They ate in the kitchen. Dean sat on his plate, picking at the meal. His heart (nor his stomach) wasn't really in it, because he knew what was coming. Sam finished up, watching his brother make a sculpture in the cooked potato with the pink fish. He couldn't tell what it was, but even from his vantage point (also he knew his brother) that it was not rated pg.

“Ready for dessert?” He asked. Dean looked up and grinned from ear to ear.

“I was born for this moment Sammy.” Sam gently scooped his eager brother into his palm and brought him to his ear. Dean quickly climbed on, Sam made sure he was stable before moving to the fridge.

“I wasn't sure which one you wanted.” He admitted opening the door and sticking his head in to show his brother the options. He heard a faint, shuddering breath coming from his brother. He wasn't sure if it was because of the pie or the cold. It could have been both.

“Apple. I want the apple.” The determined little voice told him.

“Apple it is.” Sam agreed and grabbed both the apple and the chocolate pie containers.

“Two?” Dean questioned.

“You’re not the only one who wants dessert.” Sam replied he could feel his brother bouncing with excitement. He preheated the oven and got a baking pan for the pie.

“Pretty sure you want it warm.” He said as he took it out of the container and on the cookie sheet. A little pie filling wiped off on his hand and he gave it a tentative lick.

“Not bad!” he said, bringing his hand back to his mouth to lick off the sticky cinnamon-scented filling.

“You so better wash that hand before you even think of handling me.” Dean stated darkly.  Pulling a page from his brother’s book, Sam replied with a snarky comeback.

“Ooh Dean, you get me all tingly when you talk like that.” There was a confused pause before the miniature hunter replied.

“Who are you and what have you done with my brother?” the younger Winchester snorted and popped the pan into the oven. He washed his hands and brought his chocolate pie to the table.

“You’re not heating yours up?” Sam shrugged, but the body language was lost on the older Winchester.

“It’s chocolate mousse. It’s supposed to be cold.” He took a bite and nodded. It was thick but creamy. For a moment he wondered of all chocolate tasted this good to women. It would explain a lot.

“We should get pie more often.” He commented, moving a spoonful of mousse in the air, testing its stability.

“That’s what I’ve been telling you our entire lives!” sighed an exasperated dean. After another few moments of silence Dean tentatively asked a question.

“Do y’think, I could have a taste of yours?” Sam turned his head to see his brother’s face, only remembering when he didn’t see his brother that he was shrunk.

“I don’t see why not. It’s not like you can scarf down half of my dessert.” Dean had done that before many times in the past. Taking a mouthful and claiming it was just a nibble.

Sam brought his palm up to his ear and tilted his head. The small hunter slithered of his brother’s ear on to his palm. Sam moved his hand to the table. The little man practically vaulted off his hand. Only to pause in front of the behemoth delicacy before him. Sam was surprised to say the least. He was expecting Dean to stick an arm into the thick mousse. The younger hunter leaned forward.

“Something wrong?” he saw Dean looking at his hands and arms.

“This is my only set of clothes. How can we clean them if I get them dirty with pie?” Dean had a very valid point. They were far too small for the washing machine. And if they were washed in the sink they might get lost or go down the drain!

“So take them off.” Sam suggested. Dean looked up at his brother like he was crazy.

“Look, keep your underwear on, and ditch everything else. You can get clean after and wash your underwear.” Dean thought about if for a few moments. It sounded like a good idea. And washing up did sound nice. Climbing mount Sasquatch worked up a stinky sweat. He didn’t try to think of how he’s wash up. Probably in a cup or something. He pulled off his clothes and deposited his shirts, (only two) pants, his watch (went into his pocket) socks and boots on to his brother’s waiting fingers, where they were placed a few feet away on the table for safekeeping. Sam turned back to the pie to see Dean licking chocolate off of his hands. Sam could almost see the minute points of the anti-possession tattoo on his older brother’s chest. He left the table to check on the pie in the oven, which had warmed up nicely. Using a spatula he transferred it to a plate and brought it to the table.

“Leave me alone with mine. Here’s yours.” He said, scooping Dean up with three fingers and moving him to the other plate. Dean glared at his brother for the unannounced trip but that didn’t last long as the warm apple and cinnamon-ey scent hit his nose. When his feet hit the plate he crouched slightly. Instead of going straight at it he slowly walked around it. Marveling at the monolith apple dessert.

“Would you like me to leave you two alone?” Sam joked. Dean waved his arm behind himself by way of telling off, but he surprised Sam when Dean walked straight into the pie. He saw the small head moving around.  
He turned his attention to his own plate. Not wanting to lose his appetite. It wasn't until a few minutes later when the chocolate mousse was nothing more than a chocolate smear on the plate that Sam looked back at the apple pie. He frowned, not seeing the miniature hunter.

“Dean?” he questioned, gently pulling the plate to him and looking it over. Turning it around he grinned as Dean was making pie-angels in the filling that had oozed on to the plate. Dean gave him a drowsy, satisfied smile.

“You done?” he asked. Dean nodded heavily and pulled himself from the sticky filling. The nearest piece of apple had quite a chunk missing. He could see an indentation in the nearby crust too.

“You’re covered in pie!” Sam exclaimed quietly.

“I know. Isn't it awesome?” Dean giggled, wobbling a bit. Still drunk off joy and apple filling. Sam sighed and left the table. Dean watched as his brother grabbed one of the deep round coffee mugs and turned the sink on hot for a moment, grabbing a few things and filling the mug with water and bringing it back to.

“Is this good?” Sam asked, offering his hand. Dean climbed on slowly. His limbs and stomach heavy. He slipped a little because of the pie goo on his feet, but a tilt of Sam’s hand fixed that. Slowly, Sam brought him to the mug and held his hand over the water. Letting Dean check the temperature. It was perfect. Almost hot tub hot. He easily slid off Sam’s hand into the warm embrace of the water. Giving Sam a mini-heart attack for a moment until he surfaced. The hunter floated belly-up in the water, letting pie filling dissolve in the deliciously hot water and fall off.  
An odd scratching sound as Sam scraping off some soap from a bar with his nail and sprinkling the water with it. Dean swam to the nearest edge, hooked his arm over it and washed off the glorious pie. He asked for more soap for his underwear and Sam complied. Dean thought it was a little weird that he was taking a bath in a coffee mug, but waved it off. Sam was doing something on his phone, glancing his way every other minute.  
Dean took his underwear off underwater. (only dunking his head twice) and used a sliver of soap to wash the small garment. He squeezed it out and tried to lay it on the edge of the mug, but it slipped off and fell on the table with a small plop.

A few minutes more and Dean was done. Only… he was naked. And he couldn't get out of the mug by himself. It’s one thing to be held by your brother when you are shrunk, it’s another thing entirely to be both tiny AND naked. He held on to the rim of the mug with both hands. The cup curved slightly and he rested his feet on the slippery ceramic. He was tired despite the nap from earlier.  
He would have to come out one way or another.

“Uh, Sam?” Dean called out. His younger brother looked up.

“You done?” Dean nodded. Sam picked up his hand and then dropped it, realizing that Dean, was in fact, naked.

“Come on Sam. Just pick me up.” Dean wheedled. He was more than ready to get out of the mug, not caring anymore. Sam blinked twice and moved the (clean) dish towel he brought with him from the counter over to the cup. Dean eyed the (massive) towel. The jump from the mug to the towel was about a three story building. Dean wasn't going to risk his neck for that. Dean looked up at his baby brother who was waiting for him to say something.

“Come on dude. Please?” he asked. Surprised at himself for saying that. It was the please that cinched it. Sam scooped his fingers into the water, under his tiny brother. He spread his fingers slightly to let the water fall off his fingers and into the cup. Moving his hand, Dean quickly slid on to the towel, where the little hunter dove in between the folded layers of the maroon hand towel. Sam could see movement under the top layer. Dean popped his head out.

“I don’t think I've ever had a towel this big, but I don’t think I can ever go back to the old way of drying myself off.” He disappeared again into the towel. Sam picked up Dean’s little clothes, rubbing the pants between his fingers. They felt soft. As he pinched the boots between his pointer and thumb, one of the socks fell out of the boots, and try as he might, Sam could not pick up that tiny scrap of cotton. He tried using his nail to scape it up but all that did was get it stuck, and an attempt to dig it out only pushed it in further. Either he needed a toothpick or dean was gonna have to get it out. He picked up the rest of the tiny clothing and moved it to the edge of his fingers.

“Clothes.” He announced. A small arm reached out of the towel and grabbed them from the bigger hand, retreating back under.  
A few minutes later Dean crawls out on to the table, looking ready to sleep for a year. He flexes with a large yawn. Sam double-takes when he sees his brother’s feet. Dean’s only wearing one sock. He looks adorable! Dean shrugged.

“I think I lost a sock in the towel. Shake it out.” Sam shakes his head instead. Bringing his finger to his brother.

“it got stuck.” The finger was extended pad-up, Dean could easily see where his sock went. His eyes went up to his brother’s face for a moment to confirm what he wanted him to do. With a small shrug, Dean extended his own small hand under his brother’s fingernail and extracted the sock.

“eeeeww.” He said holding it away from himself.

“This needs to get washed.”

“How?” Sam asked. Dean shrugs again.

“The same way I did my underwear. Lift me up to the cup.” Sam extends the rest of his fingers and Dean steps on, sitting down quickly and pulling his other sock off. Sam holds his brother by the edge of the cooling mug. Dean steps to the edge of his brother’s enormous palm, rolls up his sleeves and dunks the socks into the soapy water, scrubbing them as best as he can with a tiny piece of soap. It wasn't cleaning well. The small hunter frowned, looking down. Sam could see when inspiration hit.

“Gimme your other pointer, Sammy.” A confused and amused Sam extends his left pointer to his brother. Dean deposits the socks down on them.  
“now rub ‘em with your thumb.” Sam does as his brother says, barely feeling the tiny socks between his fingers.  
Dean has him stop, dunks the socks in the water and has him rub again. The tiny hunter declares them clean and points down to the table. Sam lowers his hand and watches as his big-little brother picks up his underwear from where it fell.

Dean lays his wet items on the towel to dry. Sam knew his brother and could tell that he was covering a yawn. Dean swayed a little on his feet, his back to his small-bigger brother.

“Tired?” Sam asked, making Dean jump. He saw Dean place a hand over his heart after turning around.

“Dude, you ok?” Sam asked, worried. Dean waved and nodded a yeah.

“Zoned out for a bit. Forgot this happened.” He said gesturing to himself and his much-bigger brother.

“Are you tired?” Sam tried again. Dean didn't even try to cover the yawn this time.

“I’m beat. Could sleep for a few years.” It made Sam happy to hear that. Over the past few years, the most sleep Dean would get was if he was knocked out-cold. Otherwise it was four or five hours a night. A little more with the help of alcohol. But since they came to the bunker, he developed a regular sleeping pattern. Sleeping up to nine hours at a time!   That was almost unheard of even when they were kids! Dean made his way to the waiting palm. Sam brought the hand to his chest as he stood up. Dean sat down, his back against the base of Sam’s fingers. Sam was a little confused at how easily Dean took to being carried around. For the most part he didn't mind Sam picking him up or hanging over his ear. Sam wondered if that was an effect of the spell, or just his brother too stubborn to admit to being scared.

Of course Dean was scared. He was less than two inches tall! And everything keeps reminding him that he was tiny, weak, and defenseless. But, when Sam was holding him, he felt safe. So very safe. It helped that Sam was also warm. There was a chill in the air and Dean was cold most of the time. He wished his jacket had shrunk with him. He moved around on the hand, digging himself deeper between the warm skin of Sam’s palm and fingers. The hallways were a blurry landscape as Sam walked them to the bedroom area. He could see doors, plaques, and paintings on the wall, but they were hard to make out. It was off-putting. He shifted again as Sam turned, not into Dean’s room, but into his own!

“Hey!” Dean yelled up at Sam’s chin. Sam looked down at his brother. Dean resisted the urge to yelp. Sam’s face was the size a blimp ready to crash into the ground. Ginormous.

“I’m sleeping in my bed!” he yelled up. Sam’s chuckles shook him in his hand-perch.

“What’s so funny?” he demanded, a little upset at the laughter.

“First off, you think I’m going to let you sleep in a separate room from me, second you think you can sleep on a regular bed!” at this Dean crosses his arms.

“I can!” he declares.

“Sure.” Sam says, depositing Dean on a pillow on his bed.

“Gonna sleep there?” Dean is so light on the fluffy pillow, but still has some mass so he sinks a little and slips on the pillowcase as he tries to walk. He falls on his back and can’t get up, slipping twice on the ancient pillowcase. It bellows up around him, almost swallowing him, and his attempts to get up only make him sink deeper and he can’t get a decent grip on it before his fingers slide off. Sam looms over him.

“Had enough?” Dean scowls at him, but lifts an arm up in a plea to be taken off. Sam complies, scooping up his sullen brother and depositing him on the night stand.

“Be back in a minute.” Sam promises, exiting the room before Dean could say a word. With a frown, he sits down on the hard wood table. It was humiliating, struggling with a pillow. He looks around the vast landscape and hugs his knees to his chest feeling cold and defenseless. These were things he did not enjoy. He thought of what would happen if the roles were reversed. If Sam was the one that shrunk. There would be more teasing on Dean’s part. But Dean would still do everything he could to make Sam comfortable and safe, just like what Sam was doing now to him.

But Dean was cold and tired, and more than a little grumpy from the pillow. He’s contemplating moving around to get blood flowing when Sam walks back in the room holding…one of Dean’s shirts? Dean moves aside as Sam bends down and gently places the grey, folded shirt on the night stand.

“It’s soft enough for a mattress.” He explained. And suddenly Dean’s world goes white as something is dropped on him. He blinks for a moment, wondering where the parachute came from when Sam pulls it off of him, making sure he was okay.

“Sorry, it was supposed to fall on the shirt.” He pinches it between two fingers and drags it to Dean, who takes an armful of it with a blank look.

“It’s a handkerchief! a clean one, for a blanket.” Sam explained. Oh. Well, it was soft and warm.  
With a little effort, he drapes what he can of it over his shoulders like a cape and smiles up at Sam.

“Thanks Sammy.” He says and tries to drag the hankie over to his *bed*. But unfortunately its too much material for him to drag. Sam sees this and helps him carry it. Neither say a word about it. Sam stands up and Dean tries not to think about how his brother looks like a skyscraper.

“I’m going to the bathroom, do you gotta go?” Dean opened his mouth to automatically decline the offer before realizing that he couldn't get there by himself. He nods and steps on the offered hand.

“Man.” He thinks on the way to the bathroom. “This shrinking thing sucks. Can’t do anything by myself.” Thank goodness Sam was over-courteous about his needs. He looked up at his baby brother, thankful for how gentle he was.

After the bathroom, Sam once again deposited Dean on the night stand. He picked up a nearby water bottle and filled up the cap with water, placing it not far from the makeshift bed.

“Thanks.” dean yawned, getting comfy. He shifts the hankie around himself so that it’s also a pillow. Meanwhile Sam is changing into pajamas. Dean checks his watch. Its still early, by any adult’s standards.  
Sam opens a drawer in the night stand and pulls out a thick paperback.

“I’m gonna read for a bit. Mind if I keep the light on?”

“Nah.” Dean yells at mount Sasquatch. “g’night!” he yells again rolling over. Sam was right, his shirt WAS soft. Sam sat on his bed, propping a pillow between his back and the wall.

“Night Dean.” Sam replies softly as he watches the shrunken hunter roll over and get comfortable. He turned to his book. He’s been meaning to get to A Game Of Thrones since they watched the first season. He rooted for Daenerys.


	4. chapter four

Two hours and a good third of the book read, Sam put the paperback down, thinking about the storyline. He liked book Kahl Drogo better than the one in the show. Plus they were all older in the show, it took away some adventure. He looked around his bright room. Usually while reading, he’d use the lamp on the nightstand, but with Dean sleeping there, the light would have been intense on him. Speaking of Dean…

His eyes landed on said nightstand. Something felt wrong. He leaned over, seeing the handkerchief shift ever so slightly. No, not shifting. Shaking?  
“Dean?” he questioned softly. He saw the back of Dean’s small head poking out of his makeshift blanket.

“You alright?” he reached out a hand and gently nudged his smaller brother. He felt shaking. No, he was shivering! Before Dean could do anything, he was scooped up into Sam’s massive fingers. What little Sam could feel of him under the small cloth was cold! He slowly woke up as Sam covered him with his other hand for warmth. Dean squirmed sluggishly as he woke up.

“Sammy?” he moaned, slowly blinking his eyes, squinting in the light.

“Dude you’re freezing! Why didn't you tell me?!” Sam shifted in his bed to a better position, one that allowed him to comfortably hold his hands close to his face. Dean frowned.

“I dunno. I…dreamed that I was cold. Like Antarctica or sumthin.” Dean shifted and Sam could feel his every movement.

“You’re so WARM Sammy.” He commented, still groggy. He rolled over onto his stomach and snuggled into his brother’s palm, nuzzling the fleshy base of a finger and within moments, fell back asleep.

Dean was so going to get teased for this. And yet, Sam nearly awwed at the sight of his brother snoozing on his hand, still wrapped in his handkerchief blanket.  
Now what? He couldn't put Dean back on the table, he’d get cold again. And he couldn't stay in this position all night. Sam pursed his lips in thought. He was a light sleeper. Hunting training made sure of that. And he slept on his back. Thinking it over for a moment he got up and turned off the light and tuned on his bedside lamp. Slowly and carefully he got into bed using one hand, the other cupping his sleeping brother. He pulled the blanket up a little past his waist and gently slid Dean off of his palm onto his chest. Dean moved, getting comfortable, but didn't wake up, accepting the body heat that Sam emanated. Sam cupped his hand over his brother, careful for to smother or crush him.

Things to get: a heating pad for Dean. He thought.

He barely felt the small man on his chest. He was surprised at how deeply his brother slept. The past few years had Dean on not much more than four hours of sleep a night! And now he changed clothes for bed, wore a robe, and slept long and deep! He let out a content sigh at how things had changed since they found the base.  
Sam closed his eyes and fell asleep, dreaming of dragons and tiny people.  
From under his brother’s palm, Dean’s eyes were half-open. Trying to understand where he was. Sam moved him…somewhere. He knew that much. He laid still and observed. Whatever he was on was moving, up and down at a slow steady rate.  
Bu-bump. he knew that sound.Bu-bump. Bu-bump. Bu-bump.

A heartbeat.  
Sam’s heartbeat!  
He was on Sam! Why?! He tried to rouse himself to get up but just couldn’t. The chest beneath him was so nice and warm. And something above him was giving off heat as well.  
The bat-cave was pretty cold now that he was tiny. The marble floors and stone walls didn’t allow a small person warmth. It wouldn't hurt just to sleep for a while and then…and then… that big heartbeat was soooo soothing.  
Moments later Dean was fast asleep. Dreaming happy, warm dreams.

Sam awoke hours later slowly blinking his eyes and with a long stretch of his big body, arms up and legs out, the whole nine yards. (almost.) He relaxed, before getting up he noticed something white on his chest. He blinked at it for a few moments before remembering with a start that it was his brother! Slowly he picked up his head, trying to keep his chest level as he looked at his tiny brother wrapped up in the hankie.

“Dean. You up yet?”  
Sam didn't know that Dean woken up half an hour before and was in a nice half-doze stupor with the heat surrounding him. When Sam removed his hand the cave of warmth disappeared. He slowly curled his legs into a loose fetal position. When Sam called to him, he felt it rumble through the chest underneath though the voice was gentle. Something large bumped the side of his body, moving him a little. Even a small, gentle poke from Sam was still a pretty big poke to Dean.

“Rise and shine Thumbelina.” Sam teased, scooping up a shifting Dean and sitting up. Dean struggled out of his blanket to finally look up at the face that was far bigger than he was.

“Mornin.” He yawned. Reaching his arms upwards in a stretch.

“I’m gonna take a shower. Want to come with me to the bathroom or stay here?” Dean thought for a moment.

“I’ll stay here, mister morning breath. Make good use of that toothpaste.” He said waving a hand in front of his face. Sam had to stop himself from pressing his tiny brother against his cheek in a hug. His morning fuzzy brain told him that Dean was so damn cute, with his tiny messed up hair and stubble and Sam couldn't do anything about it. Dean would be pissed beyond all reason if the word “cute” ever left his mouth. Instead he bent his thumb and gently rubbed at the bed-head hair.

“Dude!” Dean pushed the finger. He couldn't actually move it but Sam moved it away.

“S’not like I have a comb.” He sulked, rubbing his fingers through his short hair in an attempt to comb it. After three seconds of watching Sam moved his thumb back to mess it up. Dean fell on his back in surprise. Sam chuckled and moved his hand to the mattress. Dean stepped off and took a step back as Sam swung his legs away from his brother and off the bed. He stretched again, this time putting his back into it. Several satisfying pops and clicks brought a sleepy grin to his face. He looked down at the bed, barely seeing his brother on the expanse of the bed. he actually spotted the white handkerchief on the tan sheets and the little man IN the handkerchief.

Dean looked up-up-up as his brother the giant practically touched the heavens. The shorter Winchester had the hankie over him like a cloak. His hand held two sides of the fabric at his chest. He saw Sam scan the bed before his eyes locked in on him. He picked up his phone from the night stand and propped it up on the pillow on its side.

“See if you can use it.” Sam prompted. It was a touch phone, so Dean might have been able to use it. Surprising both of them, the screen lit up when he swiped his palm across it.

“Have fun.” He called, already out the door.

One quick shower (and thorough teeth brushing and mouthwash later) had Sam back in the room with a towel around his waist. He walked in to get his clothes and go back into the bathroom to change. But stopped when he saw Dean try to flag him down from the bed. Little arms waving wildly at the younger Winchester.  
Sam laid his hand on the bed and Dean all but sprinted on.

“Bathroom. Now. PLEASE.” Sam nodded and stuck his clothes under his arm. When they got to the bathroom, Sam placed his hand on the counter of the sink. Dean scrambled off and fumbled with his pants. Out of courtesy Sam left the room and dressed in the hallway. When he re-entered the bathroom he found his brother at the edge of the counter leaning over to look at the drain. Sam offered him his hand.

“You done?” Dean just looked at the hand and shifted. He mumbled something unintelligible.

“What?” Sam bent down and leaned in close to hear him. Once again Dean mumbled. Louder this time, but still unintelligible.

“Dude, I can’t understand you when-“

“I gotta take a dump!” as soon as the words were said Dean’s face grew red and he turned away from Sam.

“Oh.” He looked at the drain, which had big holes and was slick and slippery. No, that wasn't happening. What was small enough for Dean to use?  
An idea hit him, if it had been a cartoon, Sam was sure there would have been a light bulb over his head.

“Be back in a minute.” He said as he walked out of the bathroom. The main room was close, and he remembered he had left a water bottle on the table. Removing the small plastic cap he brought it back to the bathroom. He placed the cap on the counter with a flourish. It reached Dean’s knees in height and was almost as big as he was.

“Voila! Instant porta-potty. Size extra-large for the extra-small.” Dean just stared at it.

“Dean, we've gone in the woods and in bathrooms that haven’t been cleaned since the seventies. This isn't so bad.” Dean looked up.

“I know! Its- thanks.” He stuttered.

“No problem.” Sam tore a corner off a square of toilet paper and passed it to Dean, gently pressing it into his hands. It was almost the same size as he was.

“I’ll come back in a few minutes.” He said once again stepping outside to give his brother some privacy. The younger hunter walked back to his room and put on fresh socks and shoes. Getting Dean a heating pad would be a good idea. Sam thought to how easily Dean agreed to be carried around. The idea that he was cold when not around Sam made sense. Last night he had gone searching in the web to look up lifestyles of small mammals. They had faster heart rates to keep themselves warm, Humans were just not made to be tiny! They also had faster metabolisms, and were capable of amazing feats of strength and agility! Nature has a way of making sure the small things live. He pondered these thoughts for a few minutes while waiting outside of the bathroom.He tapped on the door with a knuckle.

“Dean? You done?” only realizing after he asked that even if Dean responded, he wouldn’t have been able to hear him from this distance. Oh so slowly he opened the door to find Dean on the counter, done with his business. The bottle cap was covered with shredded toilet paper. Sam pretended that he didn't notice the little face light up when he walked in. Dean walked on to his palm, and he moved him to the sink, this time offering him a fingernail of scraped, dry soap. Dean accepted it, washed his hands, and then his face. Wiping it off on the cuff of Sam’s long sleeved tee when he was done. Sam opened his mouth to say something about it, but then thought better and walked out.  
It was a complete accident if Dean got jostled and fell down in his hand as he turned a corner. Entering the kitchen, Sam moved his hand to his ear. Dean’s bare feet ticked a little as he climbed on. The little hunter was once again draped over the outside of his ear. His torso on the outer shell, little feet resting in a nook his ear provided.

“What do you want for breakfast?” Sam asked, a little curious as to what his brother might say.

“How ‘bout some scrambled eggs?” Dean suggested. Sam nodded gently.

“Sounds good. I’ll join you.”  
He pulled a carton of eggs from the fridge, and some butter. He put the butter on a quickly heating pan and popped two pieces of bread into a toaster. A smile twitched at the corner of his mouth when he heard Dean lightly humming. It wasn't a rock song to his surprise. He couldn't place the tune but still didn't comment on it. He could almost feel Dean tap out a beat with his feet, they were so light. Sam didn't think Dean was aware he was doing it. He brought a plate with hot scrambled eggs to the table and was surprised to encounter a slice of pie on the table.

“Guess I forgot to put it away last night.” He apologized as he bought his hand to his ear. Dean was placed on the table and went not for the pie, but for his now-dry underwear and socks. Dean picked it up and gave Sam a very clear “look away” look. Sam turned his head and got up from the table. Getting a glass of orange juice from himself, and a cap full of juice for the little guy.

He took longer than usual, drawing out the task, giving Dean time to change. He walked back and placed the cap in front of Dean, who got on his knees, stuck his face in, and slurped at the juice. Sam rolled his eyes at the sight. Dean was a slob, what else was new? He tore off a corner of toast and placed it at the end of the plate along with a bit of egg. Dean saw and eagerly dug in to his (relatively) small portion.

“Slow down, don’t want to gain a few micro-grams, do we?” Sam teased. Dean shrugged off the comment and continued to enjoy breakfast. He he grabbed a few large shreds of bread, scooped some eggs on it and sat down cross legged next to the plate to devour it, occasionally watched the giant fork wearily if it came anywhere near him. Sam saw this and kept it away from him.

A few more crumbs and a tiny bit of egg later, Dean was done with his meal. Sam was still working on his. He noticed Dean eying the leftover pie.

“You’re not going for the pie?” he questioned.

“Time and place Sammy. Breakfast isn't the time for pie. Especially if said pie has been left out all night.” Sam nodded, considering this.  Dean stood up and touched his toes a few times.

“Any plans for today?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m getting you a heating pad so you don’t freeze again.” Dean blinked up at his little brother.

“Again?” It was NOT cute the way Dean tilted his head. He had to be strong, and not give in to the cuteness. The adorableness that was his big-little brother. So tiny.

“You don’t remember last night?” Sam questioned, a little surprised.

“I went to sleep on the night table and woke up on your chest. That’s it!” it was a little lie. Dean remembered waking up on Sam’s chest after he was moved, but that was only for a minute. He still didn’t know WHY he was moved.

“Dude, I checked on you and you were freezing! You were shivering!” Sam accidentally raised his voice and Dean winced at the loud noise. He lowered it quickly.

“I put you on my chest you wouldn't catch hypothermia or die from lack of heat! Why didn't you tell me you were cold?” Dean shrugged, his head down, his cheeks and neck grew hot. It was downright HUMILIATING to keep asking Sam for help! His hands clenched into fists at his side, then folded his arms tightly. Even to keep himself warm, he couldn't even do that! Dean hated the feeling of helplessness. He was done with being tiny.

 

“I don’t remember.” That much was true. He didn't remember freezing. Just waking up after Sam moved him on his chest. He slept ON TOP of Sam. Dean suppressed the snarky part of his brain that threatened to sass him. Sam saw the little face burning. He couldn't tell if it was shame or embarrassment, but an educated guess went for both.

“Little creatures have faster heart rates to keep themselves warm. You’d get a heart attack trying to keep yourself warm that way.” Slowly he moves his hand across the table to his big-little brother. He nudged Dean gently with a knuckle.

“I don’t mind keeping you warm if it keeps you alive.” He said plainly. Dean still refused to look up at the goliath’s giant puppy eyes.

“And it doesn't make you weak to ask for help.” Sam’s large voice continued. But that’s what he was. Tiny. Weak. Helpless. Unable to protect Sam or even himself himself against anything! Dean silently cured the Men Of Letters for not destroying that damned shrinking statue.

“You’re still Dean. The hunter that makes monsters wet their beds and tell horror stories about. The guy who kills dick angels and asshat demons. My big brother and partner in crime.” Sam shifted in his seat and leaned closer to the little person.

“It doesn't matter what you look like on the outside. What matters most is here, on the inside.” Sam unfurled his pointer finger to tap at the little chest.  
Unintentionally, Sam winded dean a little, but didn't notice. Sam withdrew his finger but Dean put out a hand and the large appendage paused its retreat. Dean looked up into the hazel eyes of sorrow and the little snarky part of his mind gained control of his mouth once more.

“Since when did I have a care-bear for a little brother?” he joked upward. Chuckling, Sam was happy to see that the little face no longer resembled a red hot.

“I got you something to pass the time.” Sam pulled his finger back, placed his hand palm up on the table and twitched his fingers in a “come here” gesture.

“It won’t be easy to turn the pages of a magazine at this size.” Dean joked, making his way on to the offered hand. The heat radiating from the flesh beneath him felt nice, the table had been getting cold. Sam scowled slightly at the joke, bringing Dean up to his ear. Once Dean was settled he cleaned off the table.

“Whatcha get?” Dean asked, impatient and curious. He tapped his feet in a tattoo against the outer shell of the ear as Sam washed his plate.

“What starts with season six and ends in box set?” there was a dis-believing pause.

“Sammy, you didn’t!”

“I did.”

“Yeah!” Dean bellowed happily. Sam flinched at the sudden loud little voice right by his ear.

“Man, no yelling by the ear.” He pleaded.

“Sorry.” Only because he was focused on that area, did he feel a little hand pat his head. Walking out of the kitchen, Sam could feel his little brother fidgeting in excitement.


	5. chapter  five

 The bag from the book store was in his room, so was his laptop. So Sam fetched them , tucking the laptop under his arm on his way to the main room.  There were three giant tables, and all of them were covered in tomes, scrolls, files, other mystical and ancient knowledge and crap. Sam made for the cleanest of the three. The big map table. He sat down and booted the laptop. While there was more clean space on this tabletop than the others, it was still pretty cluttered. Sam was unsure of how the mess had gotten so bad.

“I’m gonna set you up here, and work on cleaning up this mess. We’ve only been here a few weeks and made a mess of this place!” he moaned, bringing his hand up to the side of his head. Unfortunately, in getting off the ear, Dean managed to tangle his leg in a few  long hairs. Sam heard mumbled swearing and minute tugging at a few hairs before he realized what happened. He reached with his other hand for a moment before realizing that he couldn’t help! He couldn’t see where Dean was! It was silent for a few moments before Dean patted the hand below him.

“I’m free, bring me down.”

How did he untangle himself so fast? He wondered. He scanned the small man half-lying in his palm giving him a guilty grin with a  teeny tiny pocketknife in one hand and a few hairs still tangled around his leg. His hair gets ruffled in a gentle sigh Sam lets out of his nose when he sees what happened.

“This is the closest you came to getting a haircut in years!” Dean proclaimed as he steps off the hand and on to the table. Sam rolled his eyes and tried to open the dvd case, in vain.

Stupid plastic covering.

Scraping it with the nail isn't working, and after futzing with it for half a minute Sam is just about frustrated enough to start gnawing it.

“Bring it down here!” Dean calls upward to the giant of a brother failing to open the flimsy covering. Sam gives it one last glare before setting it down in front of his tiny brother. Dean walks around the case to its side, kneels down and pulls out his pocketknife. Easily making a slit in the indentation meant for opening the case. Sam grumbles as the little man easily tears off a portion of the plastic wrap. He turns around and looks upwards with a grin that makes him look like a child.

“Ta Daa!”

“Maybe I should sell you to the circus.” Sam muttered as he popped the first disk into the computer.

“I’d get chicks fawning over me.” Dean pondered out loud.

“Not to mention the government all over you like E.T.” Sam pointed out. Dean nodded.

“True, true.” Then his attention was on the screen as the hospital soap opera main menu popped up on the screen. Dean approached the computer, put a foot into the USB port and hoisted himself on to the hard drive. Comparing his height, Sam realized he was a little smaller than two keys.

“Can you type?” Sam asked, curious to see if Dean weighed enough to even push down a key. He brought the internet up on the screen and the ever familiar “search the web” search engine popped up on the screen.

Dean shrugged and stepped on to the keyboard itself. Frowning a bit when his little weight wasn't enough to push it down. He jumped on the b key. Gently at first, and then harder. To the surprise of both hunters, he managed to push it down hard enough to work!

“Huh. Surprise surprise.” Dean grunted. He turned around and craned is neck up at his mountainous brother.

“Can you PLEASE play my show?”  He pleaded upward. Sam nodded and set up the ridiculous medical show. Dean made his way back over the hard drive and plopped down, sitting Indian style, crossing his legs. As the first few bars of the opening title sang, Sam paused the show. Dean looked up in annoyance.

“You sure you’ll be ok here by yourself?” Sam asked, concerned that Dean might freeze again.

“I’m fine. The computer’s warm.” He said patting the area next to his seat. He wasn't lying, the area underneath him was warming quickly, but there were one or two things Sam could do…  
“Can-could’ya lower the volume? And tilt the screen a bit?”

“Sure.” Sam replied, more than a little relived that Dean was asking for help.

After asking one more time if he was ok, Sam went off to the other tables to clean up. Three quarters of an hour later, one table was cleared. Underneath the top layer of books he had found scrolls, spare change, an unknown key and a plate with mold on it. He got upset for a moment before he remembered that it was his own dirty plate from a week before.

Oops.

He glanced at the main table, seeing the show blaring. He quietly walked closer to find Dean on his back in his relaxed position.  Lying down, arms pillowed behind his head and his legs crossed. He was as far as he could be from the screen while still on the computer

It was pretty damn funny to see Dean tilt his head up a little and jump in shock. But since he was lying down and his appendages were folded what actually ended up happening was more like a failed flail and violent squirm. Sam barely managed to choke down a laugh but didn't stop the smile. As the tiny hunter was untangling his limbs and regaining composure, Sam glanced at the screen. The petite brunette who had slapped him when Gabriel had zapped them into the show was on screen and crying and then proceeded to violently shove her tongue down Doctor Sexy’s throat. Dean jumped on the space bar to pause the show.

“What’s up?” he asked. Sam sat himself down in the nearest chair.

“One table is cleared up and I need a break. Ready to go out?” Dean nodded.

“Sure, but bathroom first.” Sam agreed and offered Dean his hand.

 Man, it was fuckin WEIRD feeling his brother’s socked feet on his palm. Using the age-old Winchester motto of: if we don’t talk about it, it never happened, Sam resolved not to tell the miniature hunter how strange it feels to hold a person.

From the opposite perspective, Dean was thinking the same thing. It was one thing to have his brother standing over him. It had been that way since late high school. But another thing ENTIRELY to be surrounded by miles and miles of that person! But this was Sammy! His brother, comrade, and partner in crime! The constant fear of being tiny was replaced with an odd calm when Sam was holding him.

“Let’s not forget your shoes.”  Sam rumbled as he stood up, cupping his hand around the little man and bringing his hand against his chest. It was harder to hear the colossal hunter the closer Dean was. It was near impossible to understand the giant of a man when he was on his shoulder.  But it wasn't too bad when he was on ear for some reason.

One trip to the bathroom later, Dean tugged on his boots as Sam walked to the exit. Dean glances at the scars on the platform of a hand he’s being carried on. They’re fading, but they’ll always be there.

Before Sam opens the door, he brings his big-little brother up to his face.

“The jacket this time, my shirt doesn't have a pocket now.” Dean shrugs.

“Whatever sasquatch.” Sam’s about to tuck him in before he realized he forgot to check it. Single handedly, he pulls out a crumpled and crusty tissue, a green skittle, a nickel, two pennies, and a pebble.

“How did the rock get in there?” he pondered, slipping his brother into the pocket and walking out the door.

The jacket pocket was different than the shirt pocket. For one thing the shirt pocket was soft flannel. This stuff was heavier and thicker. Dean tried to settle into the corner like last time. He really did! But the seam of the pocket was trying to molest him! Getting in between his legs and trying to work up other places. The thickness of the jacket mean that no light came in except for two small holes at the top. The pockets flap that covered the air supply made the pocket stuffy, all of these things combined made Dean dizzy and slightly nauseous. The moment the jacket stopped moving when Sam sat in the car Dean yelled out to him. Silently praying he was loud enough for Sam to hear.

The pocket was opened by a large hand and a surprised eye peered in, moving the walls of the stuffy pocket so they could see the little man at the bottom with an unhappy face.

“Get me outta here man!” Dean pleaded upward. While Sam couldn't make out the words he heard the desperate tone. Once again he dropped two fingers in as a platform and waited for the little passenger.

Once he was safely out of the pocket Dean let out a large sigh of relief. He did NOT want to go back in there. Sam opened the hand that Dean clung to, turning his palm up. Dean found himself lying stomach down on a finger, which tilted upward gently as he slid down onto the palm, rolling over once he reached the fleshy base of the finger.

“Sorry.” Said a not really sorry Sam, who’s curiosity was successfully quenched for the moment.

Dean scrambled to stand on the hand and straightened out his shirt, ignoring the mountain of a little brother for a few moments. Sam waited for Dean to speak.

“That pocket is a no-go.” He declared, still not looking at his brother’s face, still a little upset about being tossed around.

“Why not?” questioned Sam. Dean crossed his arms.

“It’s stuffy, dark, and hot in there and the seam at the bottom sticks out and is trying to molest me!” Sam cannot smile. He CAN NOT smile! But the little upset Dean in his palm was so damn adorable with his itty-bitty grumpy face and tiny crossed arms!

“I don’t know where else you can go…” he trailed off, looking at himself and other possible places where he could safely stash the little man.

“Just let me ride by ear. Until we get to the store. Okay?” Dean pleaded. The Rushmore sized head nodded and grew bigger as the platform hand brought him closer. He settled on the ear, Sam’s big hair on his back.

“You good?”

“Yeah dude. I’m good.”

It was startling to hear the Impala’s familiar engine much louder than it should have been. Sam felt the little man flinch sharply at the loud noise. He would have offered to stay back in the base, but dean really needed the heating pad! Sam remembered how he almost forgot Dean that morning when he woke up. He did not want to do that again.

He turned on the radio, once again putting on a top-40’s station. Dean groaned but said nothing. The car ride didn't last long. Only half an hour to the nearest superstore, which happened to be a target.

The ride was strange for Dean, who couldn’t see most of the scenery as it passed by. Oh sure he could see trees, houses, buildings, but he could not make out any features on them, nor details. He found it unnerving and slightly disturbing. 

As the car pulled into the parking lot he tensed, not wanting to go back into that god-awful pocket.

Sam parked the car with ease. It was an off hour for shopping and the parking lot was mostly empty.

“So.” He said, his hands falling from the steering wheel to his side

“So what?” Dean snarked.

“You’re not coming into the store on my ear.” Sam stated.

“That pocket has it out for me!” Dean insisted.

“I have other pockets.” Sam quickly emptied out one of his side pockets. Dean sighed.

“It’s not like I have a choice, do I?” wordlessly, Sam lifted his hand to the side of his head, where dean was transported to the lower pocket. It was built like the higher pocket, a deep pocket sewn to the outside of the coat, but with no flap. There was more air, and no annoying seam to worry about.

“Just a quick shopping trip.” Sam said out loud. For this passengers sake as well as his own.

Sam zipped his jacket up so that the pocket wouldn't flap against his side when he walked. He walked slower than usual, VERY aware of his fragile cargo.

 This ride was different, this pocket moved more than the shirt pocket. But once again, it wasn't so bad once he fit himself into a corner. (Though he had to shove a few lint balls Sam missed.) the sounds that filtered in through the top were muffled, and there were times when light filtered directly in to the pocket itself. All in all, better than the first pocket.

 Sam headed straight to the house supply area, with the intent to get in and out. He picked two electric heating pads and an extension cord. One for the main room, one for the bedroom. He meant to leave with just those. But there was a sale on menswear! And Target’s stuff was long lasting and was generous in build for men his size!

He glanced at his pocket. Knowing full well that Dean was waiting to get out.

Ten minutes. No more.

Dean waited. And waited, and waited. It shouldn't take this long to buy a heating pad, should it? No. he was able to see his watch in what little light came through, and the time told him that they came through the store over ten minutes ago. More than a simple in and out it seemed.

While there was no rush, Dean started getting a little twitchy. He pulled out his phone and played candy crush. It’s not like he could have called Sam on his phone. Three levels and five lives later, Dean was past twitchy and moving on to fidgety.

“How long does it take to get in and out of a store?!” he yelled as he tapped his knee against the side of his pocket. Not like anyone would actually hear him.

Unknown to both brothers, a three year old who was holding his father’s hand turned his head at the small voice. But when he looked for the source of the small voice, he found a tall man looking at a shirt.  After a few moments the tall man turned to look at him, and smiled at the little boy. The child stuck his thumb in his mouth and pressed his face against his father’s leg, suddenly shy. When he peeled his face away from the leg, the tall man had moved away and was looking at his pocket with his face a little sad. In the next moment the child’s father picked him up and placed him on his hip.

“Come on Leo, I bet you’re done with the boring shopping. Time to pick up ice cream for mommy.” Any thought of the small voice was forgotten in the sudden realization that there was ice cream to buy! And then eat!

Sam went on line to buy the stuff. A few shirts, some much needed socks, and a brush (his last one had bent bristles.) the stand next to the checkout counter advertised a sale on fancy potato chips. They looked good. Sam glanced at his pocket. He rarely treated himself to that particular junk food, but it would also make a nice apology for the passenger in his pocket. He grabbed a bag and placed it on the conveyer belt.

“FINALLY!” Dean yelled from the confines of the pocket as he heard and felt Sam exit the super store. He was starting to get cold and the idea of being in the pocket any longer was getting worrying.

 Once the stuff went into the trunk, Sam took a seat with a loud sigh. He looked at his pocket, it was at an awkward angle because he was sitting. He didn't think it would be a good idea to stick his hands in there. He slowly unzipped and shrugged off his jacket, making sure the pocket was up the entire time, and then laid it flat down on his lap.

“Come on out man.” He coaxed his brother. Dean had felt the world shake and tilt on its side. And after a few moments understood that he was supposed to come out on his own. Two big fingers held the pocket open at the other end.

“Come towards the liiiiiight!” Sam joked. Dean smirked and moved a little faster. Squinting and blinking in the early afternoon light. A hand appeared in front of him.  He took his time rubbing his eyes before leisurely climbing on.

Even with that teeny-tiny face, Sam could easily make out the scowl.  He knew his brother well enough. The folded arms always went with the scowl.

“Quick shopping trip, huh?” Dean quoted with a dark look.

“Sorry. They had a sale on menswear! You and I both know their stuff lasts! Wait.” With his other hand he reached over his side and picked up the bag of chips.

“Want one?” Sam asked. Dean shrugged. The slight movement was almost invisible, but living with someone almost all your life means that you know their body language.

“Sure.” The snack would have been nice, but Sam wasn't going to be forgiven THAT easily.

With the bag in one hand and Dean in the other, Sam had a predicament.  How the hell was he supposed to open the bag?!

“Do you mind, being on the seat?” Sam asked him. Dean thought for a moment.

“nah. I love my baby.”  Slowly, Sam moved his hand to the seat about a foot away from his legs. Dean stepped off slowly, testing the materiel beneath his feet. This may have been the weirdest thing. This was his baby! He’s been living in her since he was four! And now it looked like he could fit at least a dozen city blocks between him and the door! The leather felt too thick and rough beneath his feet. He craned his neck up at his mountain-brother and took in a shaky breath. The gargantuan was struggling to open the bag. The man could kill a vampire in his sleep and hunt monsters that humanity forgot. And here he was, fighting with a bag of chips. it made him think of those cheesy 50's horror movies with bad special effects. wasn't there one with giant teenagers?

With a grunt the top of the bag opened, sending a several chips flying! Normally a few pieces of airborne potato wasn't a big deal. But when the chip is bigger than you and falling like a meteor you might want to re-think your previous idea.

Dean ran to the safety of his brother as a large chip crash landed behind him. Sam scanned the seat and found the little running man as soon as he realized what had happened. Offering his hand, Dean jumped on, grabbing the big thumb for support.

Bringing him up to eye level, Sam could see the panic on the little face, as well as the deep breaths Dean was taking to try to calm down. But he wasn't hurt.

“So the seat is a no.” Sam joked weakly.

“yeah.” Dean croaked, trying to regain something that resembled his dignity. He still held the thumb in a death grip. Slowly, Sam bent his pointer finger over to gently rub Dean’s back in an attempt to calm him. It was the closest thing to a hug that could happen with the current size difference. Sam realized just how fragile his brother was between his fingers! any extra pressure would hurt him badly! Sam realized this andtried for the lightest of touches possible. Dean calmed considerably between the two fingers, and surprisingly enough even allowed it for a few moments before letting go of the giant digit and shoving the other finger away.

“Sooooooo chips!” Sam all but scrambled for one with his other hand, breaking the tension.  Sam broke a few shards off one and offered it to the shrunken hunter.

What Sam didn’t realize is that he bought kettle cooked chips, which have the quality of being very thick. It was the size and thickness of a magazine to Dean. He took one of the smaller shards and held it. Wondering if he could even bite into it without breaking a tooth. A sudden loud burst of what sounded like cement being broken was Sam eating his own chips. The realization sent shivers down the little Winchester’s spine. The hand he was on was tucked next to Sam’s chest, he could feel the comforting warmth flowing from Sam’s chest and his hand. Dean crossed his legs and made himself comfortable, leaning against a finger.

Dean gently nibbled on the outer edge, finding it thinner there. Shiny grease and salt coated his hands as he worked his way through half of the shard. That’s all he can manage to eat anyway. The rest is just too thick. He puts it down on Sam’s big hand and he waits. Content now just to be quiet and safe. He looks up at the underside of the huge chin. The thin beard on his chin looks a little disturbing as dean can see each hair protruding from the skin with clarity. He turns his head and looks out the windshield instead.

About two minutes after he was done, Sam’s big hand moved away from his chest and back to his big, worrying face.

“If you think I’m going back into that pocket, you have another thing coming!” Dean yelled. The big hazel eyes squinted in amusement as the big hand moved to the ear. Dean quickly wiped his hands off in the  long, brown hair as best as he could and climbed the ear. His hands were still a bit shiny. He tried to gently wipe it off on Sam’s head. He tightened his grip as Sam moved to the radio. But instead of turning it on, he turned on the cassette player instead. Aerosmith rocked out, Sam quickly lowered the volume. Dean said nothing. Nothing needed to be said. Sam started the car and headed back to the base.

“That! That! Dude looks like a lady! That! That! Dude looks like a lady!” the radio sang. Dean bobbed his head to the music. His foot tapped lightly on the outer shell of Sam’s ear.

Finding himself in a good mood, Sam tapped the steering wheel to the beat as well. Dan almost always used this song to comment on how long Sam’s hair was. When they were younger Dean used to tease him with this song to him and tug on his hair.  That stopped when Sam started beating him in wrestling.  Even so, Sam was still surprised when Dean didn't comment on his hair. Halfway home, Sam took a back road through a wooded area. The road was mostly empty.

Except for a slightly swerving truck coming down the road from the opposite direction. He flicked on the blinkers to get the drivers attention.

“Why does anyone drive if they don’t pay attention to the road?” He groused. The driver paid him no attention. Until they almost passed each other, and the truck violently swerved into their lane, causing  am to stomp on the brakes.

Now, its simple physics. An object in motion tends to stay in motion. That’s why people who don’t wear seat belts on the highway go through the windshield when they don’t wear seatbelts and their car is forcibly stopped. Sam had already slowed down considerably because he saw the other car driving dangerously. Even so, he grabbed the steering wheel with stiff arms and was just moved forward in his seat a bit. But his head bent forward with whiplash and then snapped backwards suddenly. Tossing the little passenger with a slippery grip from the safe perch into the air.


	6. Chapter 6

Dean barely had time to register what was happening before he was falling. He vaguely saw the other car swerving, Sam blinking the headlights, and felt the Impala slow down and then his vision was filled with the front of the car moving very fast and he was falling backwards, nothing below him but air. He yelled as he fell, sounding something like: “aaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhggggggghhhh! As he fell the air screamed past his ears and the only thought that went through his head was: “I’m going to die tiny!”

What little air that was left in his lungs left with a soft chocking sound as he landed yielding and rough.  
Dean lay still for a few moments, panting, realizing that he was still alive! He glanced at his surroundings, not recognizing any of it. He heard a familiar rumbling from Sasquatch mountain. That meant he was still in the car. He slowly moved and checked over himself over. Nothing felt broken, just a little sore. To say he was surprised was an understatement.

“DEAN!” Sam’s voice thundered, once he had realized that Dean was gone.  
“Saaam!” Dean tried to yell, but he was still too winded. It was barely louder than a hoarse whisper. He lay back down on the rough surface of wherever he was, trying to figure out where he had landed. He heard the engine turn off with a jingle of the keys. He closed his eyes for a moment to regain some strength. The knowledge that he was still in the car and that Sam knew he was gone gave him a little relief.

Sam was frantically scanning the car for his big brother. Running his hands slowly over his lap, the dashboard, his collar, the seat, his hair, anywhere Dean could be!   
He had pulled over to the side of the road once he realized that the small hunter was no longer perched on his ear. He went over what had happened. Dean was DEFINITELY on him before the accident.  
Truck swerved, he braked, didn't get hurt, but his head got thrown back…so did Dean! He turned to the backseat of the car, expecting, hoping to see Dean safe in the backseat. But what he saw instead was a mess of items and trash that weren't cleaned up from the last few hunts. Sam nearly yelled in frustration before he remembered little ears get hurt by yelling. The thought of the other car was lost in the more important thing that Dean was missing! And if he fell from this height….  
He moved to his knees and leaned over to the backseat as far as he could, slowly scanning the seat itself for any sign of the little man.  
“Dean? Where are you man? Please let me know you’re okay.” He whispered and prayed. 

With enough strength gained, Dean heard his brother begging softly. He stood up, cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled as loud as he could. He didn't bother with words. Through some form of miracle, Sam just heard herd him. Just. But he was heard!

“I hear you Dean.” He whispered once the small sound was heard no more. Dean nearly sobbed in relief. Sam heard him! He fell to his knees, looking up at the hole in the ceiling of…wherever he was. His eyes were not wet. They weren’t. 

“I don’t know where you are! You’re somewhere in the back of the car. I’m gonna come to the backseat to find you.” That would be great, if only Dean knew where he was! He looked around, scanning his makeshift prison. The ceiling of the area was a rectangle with an oval hole in the middle. It looked strangely familiar. The walls looked like cardboard and the ground was white and rough but thin and-…  
He was in a tissue box.

He was saved by a fucking tissue box.

Dean Winchester, mighty hunter, was saved from a fall by a tissue box.  
He was jolted from his thoughts when he heard the door open.

Sam scanned the entirety of the backseat, moving his fingers along the crevice of the bench seat. Once he was very sure Dean wasn't there, he managed to climb and squash himself onto the backseat, never once touching the floorboards, and searching near the door for any signs of a missing brother, closed it behind him. Shutting out outside sounds as well as creepy-crawlies who like to eat shrunken brothers.  
Lying on his stomach, Sam carefully leaned in closer to the floor area behind the driver’s seat.

“Dean?” he whispers, heart in his throat.  
Dean looks up and yells, hearing Sam’s voice much closer and louder than before.  
“SAAAAAAM!” he yells back. Sam’s heart goes back down to where its supposed to be, but still trying to beat out of his chest.

“I hear you Dean. Can you tell me where you are?” he asked. Scared to find out if Dean was hurt. But he was alive. That was the important part.  
“THE TISSUE BOX!” he yells, hand cupped around his mouth. His throat was getting sore from all the yelling he’s been doing the past day.   
Sam could hear words, but he couldn't make them out, or tell where they were coming from! the voice was just too small!  
“I-I can’t tell what you’re saying man.” Dean’s shoulders slump at Sam’s whispered confessions.  
“I’m looking for you. I’m gonna find you.” He says firmly.  
“Give me a yell if I get close to you.” How would Dean know if he’s close? He can’t see out of the box! Sam starts his search, very slowly. He moves his hand to the door and starts moving it up and down the thin carpeting. Gently shifting receipts, empty bullet shells, dirt, candy wrappers, a dirty rag, and an emergency blanket.  
Now that they no longer lived out of the Impala, Dean was less likely these days to clean her out every few days like he used to. He still cleaned her, but it was less often then he would have a few years ago.  
Sam searched, ears straining for any small peep from his brother. 

Dean rubbed his hands up and down his arms. The cold was creeping up on him once the adrenaline of falling wore off. He wondered how long it would take before he got hypothermia or a heart attack.

Finally, after what felt like hours (but was actually several tense minutes) Sam’s big hand had brushed the side of the tissue box. Dean yelled as loud as he could, trying to alert his brother that he had found him. Sam froze at the small cry. He picked up the tissue box from the side, expecting to find Dean behind it. Dean fell over when his two-ply prison suddenly shifted and moved up.

“IN THE BOX!” he screamed. Sam caught the last word now that Dean was closer to him. Trying to keep it level, Sam lifted the box to his eyes, peeking inside.  
“Dean?” he muttered looking at the nearly depleted supply of tissues. Dean nearly cried when he saw Sam’s big face looking in.

“HERE SAM! HERE!” he yelled, moving as fast as he could to the center, arms waving. A moment later, Sam’s big hazel eyes locked on him and he fell to his knees with relief. Not caring how he looked, he raised his arms upward in a silent plea to be picked up. Sam’s wet eyes moved away only when his other hand reached into the box to gently wrap around Dean, lifting him up and out of the box into warm, safe hands.   
He was quickly brought close to the Rushmore sized face to be checked over. He found himself scant inches from big, wet hazel eyes that made sure that he was okay. They were nearly crossed because if how close he was. Dean dropped to his knees and curled up at the base of the big fingers, desperate for the stability, heat, and safety Sam readily provided. 

“Dean.” Sam murmured, blinking away tears of relief that Dean was safe and unhurt. He cupped his fingers over the shrunken hunter, sheltering him and moved his hand to his cheek in an odd hug. Sam could feel his big little brother grab what he could of a finger and hold it close. He felt minute and silent sobs shudder against his skin.   
“Not gonna happen again Dean, I promise. It’s my turn to take care of you. I swear I’ll do better, I’m sorry Dean.” He whispered comforts under his breath to the little man in his hand. He wasn't even sure if the little man could hear him this close, but he continued anyway. He knew Dean hated flying. So just how bad was falling for him? He was pretty sure that terrifying didn't cover it. Plus the stress of being lost in your own car! Usually dean hated to show his feelings, but he had every reason and excuse to. The poor guy was less than three inches tall!

Once the crying had slowed down and stopped, Sam slowly pulled his hand away from his face and reluctantly opened up his hand. Dean was sitting with his back leaning against the base of his ring finger, wiping his arm across his face to hide the tiny, reluctant tears that he would never admit to have shed. No word were shared. None needed to be said.  
After a minute or so of controlling his breathing and small hiccups he raised his head to the big face transfixed on him.  
“Let’s go home.” Sam said. Dean nodded silently.   
Sam gently closed his fist again, tucking it against his chest, and spent the rest of the car ride with Dean safely in his hand. He failed Dean before, it was not going to happen again.  
For one thing, Dean was thankful that Sam didn't make him move to a pocket or back to the ear. He didn't think he could handle that. While the hand-cave was dark and warm, it wasn't stuffy. Air came through a few small cracks between the tips on fingers. He pressed his hand against the base of the finger and felt a vein with a strong pulse circulating blood. This was safety. They wouldn't talk about him crying. In that short breakdown he had let out the bottled up fear of being tiny. He actually felt much better for letting it out. He fell into a light doze as the loud but ever familiar engine cooed a lullaby of safety.

Even though his arms started to complain towards the end of the drive, Sam didn't dare move it. Some deep rooted parental instinct had flared up when Dean first shrunk, and now it had Sam in complete overprotective mode. He could count on one hand the few times he felt like this. He vaguely wondered if dean felt like this all the time around him. Once he drove back to the base, he took the bags out of the trunk and opened the door single handedly. A little tricky, but Dean was NOT coming out of his hand until they were both inside.

Once actually inside and safe, Sam slowly pulled his hand away from his chest and peeled back his fingers. He let his hand rest on the table, giving Dean the choice to get off if he wanted to. With the other hand he fished out a heating pad from the bag. He placed it on the table once he realized he couldn't get it out of the packaging one-handed. He glanced at the small man on his palm. So far Dean had made no move to get off. He was staring off somewhere into the middle distance with a blank look on his small face. Sam’s hand was relaxed and his fingers naturally cupped over Dean’s head like an overhang as he leaned back against the wall of fingers behind himself.  
Sam’s forehead creased in a slight frown.

“Dean?” he whispered. Dean blinked but didn’t reply. He slowly flexed his hand on the table. Making it flat. As his cave disappeared the older Winchester blinked several times, coming back to reality. He looked down at the hand below him confused. Then he looked up. He blinked consecutively, like waking up.  
He made eye contact (well, as best as he could) with Sam and then looked back at himself.

“Made it back in one piece.” Dean declares. Sam squints at his big-little brother.  
“You sure about that? No breaks, or sprains or anything?”  
“Yeah.” For a moment Dean balances on his butt and he waves all appendages in the air like a kid. Nothing broken.  
“Just a few bumps and bruises. Might’ve lightly bruised some bones. But that’s about it.”   
“Your size must have prevented any injuries.” Sam theorized. He stopped talking as soon as he caught sight of a tiny uncomfortable face. Clearly Dean did not want to talk about this.  
“You wanna get off so I can open the heating pad?” he inquired gently. Dean slowly tensed and shook his head in a silent no. He really didn't want to leave Sam’s hand. At least, not yet.

“Alright.” Sam leaned back in his chair. Dean’s small shoulders slowly relaxed.  
“I’m not watching Doctor Sexy, but do you wanna catch the next episode of Game of thrones?”  
Dean nodded. At least the computer was easily used with one hand. The brothers watched the next two episodes in comfortable silence. Occasionally commenting on one thing or another. (Swords, fighting, several naked women, the awesomeness of Tyrion.) ((Dean was a little surprised when Sam made no jibe at comparing his height to the dwarf’s.))  
But at the beginning of the third episode, Sam realized a pressing need.

“Dude, I gotta go. Do you wanna come with? Or stay here? I can set you up with a heating pad.” Dean thought for a moment and nodded, slowly making his way off of the warm hand. Once Dean got off, Sam flexed his hands and opened the heating pad. Finding a socket was easy enough, he just unplugged one of the lamps on the table. He set it to medium and even waited a few minutes for it to heat up before going to take care of business. He put back on the doctor sexy episode that Dean was watching before.  
The heating pad wasn't so bad. Dean made himself comfortable between two heated coils on the dark blue pad. The foam under his feet made for a nice seat, though he wished he had something to lean on. The heat was nice, but it wasn't the comforting warmth that Sam naturally emitted. Not like Sam could hold him all the time. As nice as that would be it was bordering on weird. Not to mention his mother henning. 

But it’s not like he could actually take care of himself! Speaking of which, his throat was feeling sore. All the yelling he’s been doing the past day was not good. It would be bad enough if he was tiny with no voice. Maybe he could ask Sam to heat up a spoonful of soup for him. Speaking of food, he didn't have lunch yet. whatever. he wasn't going to bring it up. He glanced at his watch to see it was already midafternoon. He’d been tiny for 24 hours at least! Only 48-ish to go.   
Sam lumbered back into the room minutes later, with a glass of water for himself, and a cap for Dean. He placed the cap at the end of the heating pad on the table. Dean glanced into the cap.

“No beer?” he asked pitifully. Sam shook his head, swallowing.   
“You could get alcohol poisoning too easily at this size.” Dean grumbled but drank some of the water. He didn't realize how thirsty he was. The chip had been salty, and a while ago. A rustling behind him was Sam folding his handkerchief/blanket on the heating pad.  
“Thought you might like a couch.” He said arranging and folding it so that it somewhat resembled a big chair. after taking a few more gulps of water, Dean went back on the heating pad and lay down on his new furniture. It was nice. Especially since he could literally fold himself into the couch.  
“Good?” Sam asked a smile on his face. Dean separated himself from the blanket and stood up. Motioning for Sam to come closer. He leaned forward. Dean motioned again, a little more exaggerated with his motion. Sam moved his chair back and lay his chin on his folded hands. To Dean, Sam’s head looked like a small building. He was getting more used to it, but it was still weird. Sam’s face was about half a foot away from his big-little brother on the table. He paused the show to hear the little man better.

“What’s up?” Sam breathed. Not even whispering.   
“The yelling is hurting my throat. If I keep it up I may not have a voice tomorrow!”   
Dean told him a voice only a little louder than normal. Sam frowned at that.  
“You can’t have any meds, what about soup?” he mumbled, barely moving his lips. Dean nodded eagerly. Of course, when did Dean ever turn down food? He never missed a meal if he could help it. Aaannnnnnd he missed lunch. Because Sam forgot about lunch. Yup. Because the little man’s pride wasn't going to let him ask for a meal. Sam let out a soft sigh from his nose that turned into a warm, stale breeze for Dean.

“We have soup. I can make a can. You want to come with me or say here?” he muttered.  
“Stay here.” Dean replied. He was comfy and didn't want to go anywhere.  
“What soup do you want?”   
“Chicken noodle?” He asked hopefully. The gargantuan head nodded, looking like a building falling over. Sam sat up, his head moving back and up and up. Rather than watch, Dean made his way back to his couch. Wrapping one layer of the handkerchief around himself and waited patiently for Sam to put his show back on.  
It was downright adorable seeing Dean snuggled up in his blanket, only his little head showing. He resisted all urges to make cooing sounds. He was a man damnit.  
With the soup heating on the stove, Sam researched more on smaller mammals. In addition to having faster metabolisms, many of them sleep with catnaps rather than sleeping through the night or day. 

The pygmy shrew is an interesting mammal to lean about. Also really tiny.

After struggling to find something small enough for dean use as a spoon, he brings a bowl of soup with him to the main room. Intending to use a bottle cap for dean and just let him drink it. But when he came back fifteen minutes later, Dean was fast asleep on the heating pad. A soft, fond smile made its home on Sam’s face and he moved closer to inspect the tiny sleeping man. He carefully placed his hand on the pad to make sure it was still working. Surprisingly, and while still asleep Dean slung an arm over the nearest finger, moving closer to it.

Sam’s eyebrows went skyward as Dean snuggled with his little finger. Moving as close the giant digit as physically possible. He tucks himself as far under as he could. Sam thought he saw Dean stick a foot underneath the finger. How out of it must Dean be to curl up with the nearest warm thing? Slowly, Sam sits down and places his arm on the table, getting comfortable. After all that happened, he wasn't going to wake Dean up. At least he had soup and his laptop. Sam found the first Indiana Jones online, moved the computer further from Dean, tuned the volume low and got comfy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright. Math time. appreciate it.
> 
> Dean was 1 and ¼ th inches tall. Compared to his real height of 73 inches that makes him (about) 52 times smaller than his average height. From where he slipped off of Sam to his landing spot was about four feet. (48 inches) that would make a comparative fall of a regular sized Dean falling 208 feet (about the size of a 21 story building) he would not have survived a fall of that height if he were his regular size. but due to his tiny mass and even smaller weight he was okay.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which there is cuddles and soup.

Dean dreamed.  
He dreamed that he was in a parade. A rock music parade. Everyone in the crowd was jumping, screaming, and dancing as Back In Black blared from the float that Dean was standing on as it rolled down the street. Waving at the people as they reached out to him  
It was a good dream as dreams went.  
Slowly, it changed. He was nine again and Sam was five and their worlds revolved around each other. They were in a large bed and Dean threw an arm around his little brother and pulled him close under the blanket. Here in this warm bed in a cheesy and cheap motel, they were safe.   
He gently nuzzled the back of his brother’s head, smelling the scent that was purely Sam. He fell into a deeper sleep, relaxing even more now that he could feel his little brother next to him.

Dean was always a cuddler. When they were kids Sam knew that Dean found as much comfort as he did when they slept in the same bed. But when Sam got older it was stopped under the pretense of “being girly”. He enjoyed falling asleep with whatever woman he bedded the night before, (most of Dean’s one-night stands were perfectly happy to talk about the great time they had. And if they happened to give out blackmail material…well, that couldn't be helped.) It was no different now. There was a warm extremity near him and Deans sleeping brain registered it as a body so the natural instinct was to cuddle. Sam wasn't worried.

Sam was mostly through the movie when he felt Dean stirring. He debated internally about moving his hand away from Dean before he woke up but it was too late as the small man opened his eyes and saw what he was snuggling. He blinked and moved back a bit, trying to understand what exactly was in front of him. He pulled his arm back and a confused frown grew on his face. What was this thing and why did it smell like Sammy?  
A few moments later he recalled what had happened and he looked up. Squinting at the light as Sam’s big face moved into the nearby airspace. His eyes followed his arm, down to the hand he realized he was cuddling. 

Dean was stuck between two opposing forces. The first one said: “you were cuddling. WITH YOUR BROTHER’S FINGER! GET AWAY AND TRY TO REGAIN ANY SENSE ON MANHOOD YOU HAVE!” The other one was a softer soothing tone. “It’s warm. You have nothing to be ashamed of. You’re small and he’s taking care of you.”  
Surprisingly enough Dean went with the smaller voice. He did move himself away from the enormous appendage and stretched. (But now his front was cold)  
Sam moved his hand off the heating pad and shifted closer to the small hunter.

“Hey.”   
“Hey.” Dean grunted.  
“I have an idea on how you can save your voice.”  
“Yeah?” Dean managed to shift into a sitting position.   
Sam got up from his seat without another word and went to another area of the room, working with something, but with his back to the table the mini hunter couldn’t see what he was doing. There was a bowl of something on the table. From his vantage point Dean couldn't tell what it was. He hoped it was soup. Soup sounded really good. Especially since his throat was still hurting. Sam gently placed a large cone of paper in front of Dean. The smaller end a careful inch or two away from his head.  
“A megaphone.” Dean chuckled. Sam’s face split into a smile.  
“It works! I can hear you better.”   
“Good, I don’t know how much more I could have yelled.” Dean grimaced slightly and rubbed his throat. Sam loomed as he leaned closer for a better look. Dean tried and failed to cover a small cough. Big puppy eyes the size of small backyard pools were filled with concern.

“You feeling alright?” Sam flexed a hand to his brother in an aborted effort to feel his forehead, but then realized that he was too small to feel a rise in temperature from him.  
“felt better, felt worse.” He shrugged, turning his head and most of his body to the bowl. Sam followed his gaze. Oh yeah. The soup.  
“it cooled down a lot. I’ll go heat it up. You wanna come with me?” slowly, Dean turned his gave up and nodded solemnly. 

Before Dean could struggle out of his nest/couch, Sam carefully scooped both the hankie and his brother up using two hands to carefully arrange him into one.  
Dean was covered up to his chest by two or three layers as his brother cradled him to his mile-wide chest. He felt like a swaddled baby. He wanted to reprimand his little brother, but couldn't quite force it out. He hadn't wanted to get up but at the same time he didn't want to be alone.

Being carried around wasn't so bad.

But god help him if the Sasquatch tried to spoon feed him.

Sam picked up the makeshift megaphone between two fingers while the rest of his hand carried the bowl back to the kitchen. The contents of the bowl got poured back into the pot along with the rest of the soup and the flame was turned back on. Sam mixed it a few times and gave a quick glance at little man bundled up in his palm. Dean was watching the pot and didn't catch his glance. Dean was starting to get sick. Sam couldn't give him any medicine at the rick of a lethal overdose! Maybe a drop or two of Nyquil in half a cup of water? Would that be diluted enough? The flame was high and the soup re-heated quickly. Single-handedly, he ladled a bowlful. It took him a moment to realize that he felt something on his hand.   
Dean was rubbing his thumb and looking up, trying to get his attention. Sam raised the hand holding his brother to his face.  
“Hm?”  
“Can you get me a piece of tin foil?”   
Sam’s brows moved downwards in confusion.  
“Sure.” 

Because homes have things like rolls of tin foil and other stuff like that. Sam tore off a small corner off the sheet and passed it to dean. He made the piece as small as he could but it was still only half of his size. Dean didn't mind. Sam watched him tear off a smaller piece (with some effort) and fiddle with it as he took the bowl to the table.as he sat down Dean raised his head and motioned for Sam to come closer. Sam brought his hand to his face. Dean held up what looked like a wand or a makeshift shiv.  
“Pinch this, will ya?” Dean placed the tiny tin foil rod on the thumb Sam offered and he pressed down, flattering it. He didn't even feel the small sliver. Dean took it back and flexed it a bit. He held it up to the bigger face for inspection.

“is that a-”

Yes. Yes, it was a tiny spoon. That must have been the smallest spoon in existence. And it was the perfect size for Dean to eat soup.   
Dean watched Sam’s eyes light up at the itty-bitty spoon. He knew they would.

He was slowly lowered to the table. His blanket along with him were tilted off the hand on to the grey table. The paper megaphone was placed not far from the little man, angled so that it wasn’t directly between him and his brother. Sam picked up the bottle cap used from breakfast and washed it out. Using a clean spoon, he managed to scoop out a shred of chicken, part of a noodle and a small piece of carrot into the cap.

Said cap was placed in front of Dean, who made his way out of the small hill of cloth to the meal. Both brothers dug into their respective bowls. Dean had a little trouble finding a comfortable position to eat in, but after a bit of trial and error, he ended up with the cap at his right side, only needing to lower his arm to get more soup. Because Dean was so small, the soup beaded up on his spoon. It was weird to watch but Dean was hungry and slurped it off his home made utensil. The back of the spoon had been turned into a small spear. Sam watched as Dean used the sharp end to bring the little piece of chicken closer and using the tips of his other hand, managed to rip off a small piece on to the single prong of the utensil. The noodle was picked up and eaten with hands. 

Things tasted differently from a small perspective. Not bad. Just, a little different. While the pie had been intense and amazing, there was a slight aftertaste in his throat. Previously, Dean thought it to be that one of the spices had gone bad, but when the same thing happened with the chip and soup he realized that it was preservatives he was tasting! The eggs that Sam made didn’t have it, but the soup (while still tasty) coated his throat with a thin layer of residue. Coughing managed to get rid of the nasty stuff though. No more artificial stuff while tiny! Sam wasn’t the best of cooks at times but he’d understand.

Sam noticed how Dean tried to cover a cough, twice. Which was more than a little concerning.  
Dean had eaten his fill of soup by the time Sam finished his bowl. Sam frowned down at the little man, who was wiping his nose with the cuff of his sleeve.  
Sam pulled a clean tissue from his pocket and ripped off a shred. He passed it to his big-little bother who snatched it from the bigger fingers to wipe his dripping nose.  
It felt slightly scratchy and rough, but it was better than a sleeve.  
“No dessert?” Dean croaked, surprised at how fast his voice degraded.  
“Pie is not happening.” Sam confirmed.   
“But…” he got up and opened the ancient fridge, pulling out a large, round fruit.  
“A little vitamin C might help with whatever you’re dealing with.” Quick knife work turned the round fruit into eight segments. Juicy and ready for consuming. But how was Dean supposed to eat some? The pieces were much larger than he was.

A small, slightly squashed, piece was passed to the smaller Winchester. Who took it with two hands and a confused tilt of the head. Dean separated small juice filled segments the size of plums and apples from the piece he got. He’s never looked at an orange this closely to realize that’s what the fruit was made out of. Come to think of it he can’t remember the last time he ate one of these! Not too long later, Dean learns that he can break the thin skin of the small segment with his teeth, suck out the juice and then chew on the empty skin. But it was better to eat it the way Sam did, he realized. Right off the peel. But that only worked when you were bigger than the orange.

Dean only manages a dozen or so pieces before he decides he’s done with fruit. He’s about to wipe his hands on his pants before he realizes that they are way too wet and sticky for him to do that without making a mess (and making him smell citrus-ey fresh) Sam sees his brother struggling to find something to wipe his hands on. He gets up from the table, washes his own hands and wets the corner of a napkin.

“Thanks.” He washes his hands and face, cleaning the remnants of the fruit of himself. Although, he did feel a bit better, come to think of it. Maybe vitamin C did work.  
“I want to keep cleaning the tables. Wanna go back to your show?” Dean nods and steps on the offered palm. Its nice to feel heat again. He lets out a soft sigh of contentment. Even though he’s not that tired, the full belly, comfort, and heat that Sam emanates, made him feel utterly satisfied. Sam picks up the paper megaphone and hankie with his other hand and exits the kitchen. This time, Dean watches the scenery as it passes.

He gets deposited on the heating pad. Sam makes sure he has a cap of water and sets up his show and that’s how it is for the next few hours. The heat of the pad feels nice, but its…artificial. Not natural. But he hunkers down and re-arranges his handkerchief into something like a bed. Can’t get what you want all the time.  
Occasionally Dean gets up to get a drink or Sam checks up on him but the time just drains away along with the first disk of the set. Time flies when you’re watching a hot medical professional.

Sam finds him a few hours later snoring at the dvd menu. With a small smile, he oh so gently uses two fingers to sweep Dean into his other hand. Dean wakes up in his palm.  
“Go back to sleep. I’m just bringing you to bed.”  
“b’throom” gets mumbled out. Sam can’t exactly hear what his brother’s saying, but he understands well enough.  
“No problem.” Dean may or may not have drifted back to sleep while Sam walked both of them to the bathroom. But he did take longer than usual to make his way off of Sam’s hand to the counter.

Instead of using the sink like before, he used the cap that was left on the countertop. (It was easier ) After the bathroom, Dean was dropped off at the further side of the night table as Sam opens the heating pad. Unfolding the shirt and folding it twice so that Dean can feel the heat from the pad. The little hunter sleepily makes his way to the heating pad and throws himself down on the shirt-covered foam. He shucks off his socks, shoes, and top shirt while Sam arranges the hankie to something resembling a bed. Dean staggered to the bed his brother made and snuggles in gratefully.  
Sam places his cell phone not far from the little man. Telling Dean to use it to wake him up if he needs anything. His little voice wouldn’t be heard by a sleeping Sam even if he used the megaphone. They both knew that.

Sam wants to coo at little Dean wrapping himself up for sleep but manages to stop himself when he remembers what had happened earlier that day. He rips off a corner of a tissue and places it close to his brother. A few seconds later it gets dragged closer and the smallest sneeze ever gets squeaked.  
Less than 48 hours to go, he thinks as he changes into his PJs.

Thank goodness he thinks as he slides under his sheets. One more time he asks Dean if everything is alright. And once again Dean assures him that he is.  
Even though he wants to be sleeping on Sam again. He understands how CREEPY and WRONG it sounds. But he was so comfortable last night. Not that he isn’t comfortable now. On the contrary, this was better than magic fingers! A heated bed! There was one or two motels in the past that had heated beds. A few more had water beds. Those were fun nights. He remembered the first time he tried a magic fingers. He was, what, eight? The vibrations were fun. Not nearly as fun as they got later on in life, but it was better than a supermarket ride

Another sneeze racked his body and he blew into the tarp-sized tissue. Being sick was bad enough at full size, but this? This was a good thousand times worse. Not like he could down some meds and walk it off like he had hundreds of times. No. this time he had a home. Not a questionably clean motel room to live in. But for better or for worse, he had a mountain of a little brother to look after him. More literal than ever before. Maybe it wasn’t so bad to have someone carry him everywhere and waiting on his every need. Even if he didn’t get any time alone or even personal space! Well, that was his fault mostly. Well, Sam DID give him plenty of time alone to watch his show. That was appreciated. He rolled over to the big bed and found Sam reading. Big nerd.

“Hey Sam?” Dean croaked. Sam put a finger in between the pages and closed the book around it. He leaned closer to the nightstand.  
“Yeah?”  
“Thanks.”  
“For what?”  
“For….this. For everything.” A small, fond smile grew on the younger Winchester’s face.  
“No problem, man.” After a moment of hesitation, a hand reaches out with a finger extended and very slowly gave the little back a gentle rub. Barely moving the fingertip over his backside. It felt great. Another yawn made its way out of his throat and Dean rolled over. The finger backed away. Both brothers got comfortable in their beds.

Yeah, this shrinking thing might be pretty sucky situation. But it wasn’t all bad.


	8. chapter 8

When Dean awoke, the first thing he did was check over his body. He felt better than last night, but also a bit worse. His throat was itchy, but after a few experimental sounds he discovered he wasn’t losing his voice anytime soon. His body felt achy though, and he was still tired.He turned his head to see his gargantuan brother and was surprised to find the bed empty and made. A quick glance at his watch told him that it was already mid-morning. Shifting around he spotted something new on the nightstand. A relatively large note. Folded in half so that it stood up on the table.

In Sam’s neat handwriting it said that he’s letting Dean sleep in, that he’s checking in every half hour, and that if he wants something he should use the phone next to the note. And there was Sam’s touch-screen phone next to the note, propped up against the base of the lamp.

Dean blinked, thinking for a moment. He had no reason to get up right now. Except for the fact he was thirsty. But there was a full cap of water not too far away. With surprising slowness, Dean sat up. What the hell? His limbs felt heavy. He had almost no energy to move them. Whatever ailment he currently had had stripped him of any excess energy. He barely had enough to make it to his feet! But a leisurely crawl to the oasis of water did him a world of good. Drinking his fill and washing his face made him feel better, even though by the time he dragged himself back to the warmth of the heating pad pretty much all his energy was gone.

But now he was wide awake with no energy left. Usually this would be a great time to zone out to the tv or start bitching to Sam. But there was no tv. Or Sam.

Dean let out a soft sigh into his hankie and wondered when the Sasquatch would check in next.  
It took less than ten minutes of Dean mentally disassembling and re-assembling his baby for the door to open with a creak that would shame most horror movie productions. He slowly rolled over to the door, seeing the mountain that was Sam Winchester try to enter quietly. Tip-toeing until he saw that the little man on the heating pad was awake. He stands next to the small bedside table for a few moments, towering over its small inhabitant. It makes Dean feel insignificant. But the larger hunter lowers himself to the floor and ends up with his head about the same level as the table.

“How you feeling?” he asks, trying to sound nonchalant, like he hasn’t been worrying about his big-little brothers health. Dean shrugs slowly.

“Sluggish. Got no energy.  
I barely made it back to the pad after getting a drink.” Sam’s eyes flicker over to the cap and back to the small man. Noting the short distance.

“D’you feel hot? Or cold?”

“Nah. Just…slow.” Sam doesn’t want to treat his older brother like a glass figure, but that’s kinda what he is. Dean struggles to sit up. A finger behind his back helps prop him up and stays there to support him. Dean’s little face looks annoyed, but he doesn’t say a word.

“Ready for breakfast?” Sam asks. Dean shrugs softly. Sam feels the movement of the shoulders more than he sees it.

“Sure.” Using both hands, Sam scoops up dean and his blanket. Leaving his shoes on the table. He picks up the tiny shirt and pants though, one he has a free hand. And turns off the heating pad.

“Leave the pants.” Dean tells him. So Sam passes him just the shirt. Dean holds it as Sam makes his way to the kitchen.  
“whatcha want?” he looks down to the small man tucked close to his chest. Even though its late morning, Sam still hasn’t eaten. He tells himself it’s because he wasn’t hungry. But in truth he was waiting for his brother.

His throat hurts and he’s achy. Dean wants something warm, sweet, and easy to eat.

“Oatmeal.” Sam blinks and brings his hand up from his chest to his face.

“Say it again, because for a moment I thought I heard you say you wanted oatmeal!”

“I did.” Dean replies a little petulantly.

“And coffee too.” He states to the closest hazel eye. It’s easier to focus on just one at this distance. The eye itself squints slightly, but retreats soon enough as the hand moves away from the face.

“Oatmeal it is then.” He gets everything together with one hand. He doesn’t feel so great with putting Dean down, especially now that he’s sick, but more so the fact that the kitchen doesn’t have a heating pad for him. But Dean isn’t complaining, so he continues working one handed. He struggles to get his shirt over his arms but he gets it done with a little effort.

Dean feels a hot breeze blowing on to him and looks up. He’s closer to Sam’s face than before. The hand that’s holding him is higher than the usual chest level. He’s closer to the shoulder. Whatever. He’s being held. Its all good. Sam puts water in the coffeemaker and a small pot for oatmeal. He looks down.

“You want any fruit in it?” Dean looks up.

“We got a banana?” Sam checks the fruit basket that only he fills up. He bought a few when he last went grocery shopping.

“Yeah, we do.”  
It got harder and harder to make breakfast with one hand. Sam struggled to mix the pot with one hand until Dean managed to reach over to the nearest patch of skin and rubbed it as hard as he could. It took a few seconds, but Sam finally noticed.

“Put me down and finish cooking.”

“There’s no heating pad for you here.” The tree-trunk eyebrows scrunch together in concern.

“I’ll be fine for a few minutes. Now put me down before you burn yourself.” He reassured his little brother. With a wry grin, Sam walks to the table and carefully slides dean off his hand onto the flat surface. Dean’s happy enough to rest his eyes for a few minutes to the background noise of giant breakfast making.  
Sam comes to the table with a bowl of oatmeal, a peeled banana in the bowl, and a small metal spoon for dean’s portion. One he sits down and makes himself comfortable, he sees that the smaller hunter’s eyes are closed, and he’s lying down.

Dean opens his eyes to find Sam towering over the table, staring straight at him. Once again he struggled to sit up and once again Sam helped him. This time, he used the bottom of his hand to keep his brother sitting up. His hand is gently cupped around Dean, who doesn’t seem to mind it. Picking up the small spoon he scoops up a bit of oatmeal and banana and places it to the immediate right of his brother. For a lack of a smaller utensil, Dean uses his hands to eat the oats and fruit. Sam works through his own bowl while noting Dean’s slow movement. No more coughing it seems, but his small movements became slower until they stopped altogether a few short minutes later. Sam hands Dean a corner of a wet napkin to wipe his hands off. It was accepted it with soft movements and a small smile. He never did like getting his hands dirty. He leans back into the warm extremity and lets out a soft sigh. Dean basked in the heat radiating from the hand behind and surrounding him and relaxed. There was no place safer to be right now.

“You done?” Sam asked him a little while later.

“I’m good Sammy.” Sam slowly edges his hand away from Dean and puts the dirty items from breakfast in the sink. He’ll clean them later.

“You want the coffee?”

“Later.” Dean replies. There’s no need for caffeine now.

He picks up his tiny brother and starts to walk to the main room. A small shout stops him in his track.

“Hey!” Dean half yells. The mountain pauses in it gait to peer down at the little man. “I- uh. I gotta pee.” Sam graciously says nothing but turns around to the bathroom. Once in the bathroom, is another story.

“Do you need my help to…stand?” Sam asks. Shifting from foot to foot.

“Pretty sure I can stand for a minute.”

His legs are a little shaky, but yeah. He can stand. He’s run with legs in worse conditions. He crawled haltingly to the edge of the palm, and got his feet under him, pushing himself upward to shuffle to the cap that was his personal toilet.

“Okay then. I’ll just…be out here?” Sam ducks out of the door, but doesn’t close it all the way. Doesn’t matter anyway. Not like the little brother is pulling a peeping tom. His legs start shaking harder once he finishes. He tries to sit down but his legs buck beneath him as soon as his knees bend and he drops hard on the porcelain. At least he managed to land on his ass. Not that it didn’t hurt anyways. Now to wait. On the cold, unforgiving sink. A shiver runs down Deans back as he waits.

Sam peeks his big doe eyes in about two minutes later. Dean all but falls into his brothers waiting palm. He’s a little embarrassed that he has to be supported just to wash his hands! Like before, Sam doesn’t say a word. He just helps his brother sit up. Once Dean dries his hands on a towel the size of a football field, Sam pulls the small blanket out of his pocket and helps his brother get warm and comfy. He walks back to his bedroom. Pocketing his phone and picking up the forgotten paper megaphone.

“So, what do you want to do?” Sam queries. “Relax.” Dean replies. There’s not much else he can do.

“Want me to set you up with doctor sex-bot?”

“Its doctor sexy.” Dean growled. “Let’s watch something else instead.” Asking his brother to stay with him. Sam purses his lips. He’s decided to have a lazy day with dean. Hang out with him in the bunker. What the little hunter said only confirmed his idea that dean wants to stay near him.

“How about a Star Wars marathon?” Sam suggests.

“Dude yes!” dean replies with as much enthusiasm as he can muster. Sam walks to the main room and notices his laptop charging. He spent a good portion of yesterday in that chair. There could be a more comfortable way to do this. Dean was surprised when he wasn’t deposited on the heating pad. And then Sam picked up his charging laptop and walked away.

“What’re you doin?” he asked.

“Getting comfortable.” Sam walks back into his room and settles on his bed. Dean feels the hand underneath him tilting only slightly when his brother goes from vertical to horizontal on the bed. He’s put down on his brother’s chest over his left pectoral. Sam takes an extra pillow, places it over his pelvis and puts the laptop on it. He opens the screen and then tilts it forward. He glances at the mound of cotton on his chest that contains his sibling.

“This good?”

To say dean was surprised was an understatement. He half expected Sam to drop him off in front of the computer and go do something else. But this? This meant that Sam wasn't going anywhere. This was more than a gesture, it was a reassurance.

“It’s good.” Sam helps prop up the blanket behind him so he has something to lean on, and then puts a pillow between his own head and the headboard. Dean’s close enough that the larger man can hear and see him easily.

“Which way are we starting?”

“The right way.”

“4 5 6 1 2 3 it is.” Sam finds a link quickly enough and within two minutes the words are moving up the screen. By the time Luke, Han and chewie infiltrate the death star, Sam checks up on Dean to find the little man deep asleep. There are two choices. One: continue with the movie. Two: move Dean off and do something else. But he said he would stay. So Sam flexes his arms and legs and re-settles on the bed. Shifting the pillow to a different angle and watches Luke save the princess.

Dean wakes up when the body beneath him moves and tenses when he thinks that Sam is getting up. He curls his legs up and closes his eyes, waiting to be picked up. But when nothing happened he opened his eyes, and realized that the giant was just shifting to a more comfortable position. He lets out a sigh and closes his eyes to drift off to the sound of a space-garbage compactor.


	9. chapter 9

About halfway through the second movie Sam dozed off. With the warm laptop over his naval and his brother on his chest, he felt comfortable enough to fall asleep. That was slightly unfortunate because it was Dean who woke up first when he heard the knocking on the front door. He felt it mostly. The vibrations reverberated through the air and echoed off the bunker walls. It took him a few moments to realize what it was. Three consecutive bangs. And then another three. Definitely knocking. He roused himself from the comfortable position he was sleeping in and sat up. He felt better. To his left the credits of a movie were rolling. To his right was the big face of his brother, eyes closed in gentle slumber. Dean scooted off his blanket onto the t shirt below. He banged his brother’s chest a few times.

  
“Wake up, someone’s at the door!” He said as loud as he could without straining his already sore throat. Sam shifted slightly, took in a deep breath and let it out. He was still sleeping. The front door was being pounded again. Dean used both hands and rubbed down as hard as he could, trying to rouse the sleeping giant. Now dean was getting annoyed.

“Wake up you giant bitch!” he growled, digging his nails into what skin he could reach underneath the thick shirt. Sam squirmed slightly, his brows moving together to create small lines. Something was poking him. Was it a bug? A small animal? He heard his brother in the distance. Why was he so far away? He cracked his eyes open to see a little pissed Dean on his chest muttering darkly at his chin. It took him a few moments to remember what was going on.

“Hmm?” he questioned.

“Someone’s at the door.” Dean called out to big hazel eyes just as the knocking sounded again. Sam turned his head to the door of his room when he heard the knocking, and a moment later turned his head back to the small hunter on his chest.

“Why’re you looking at me? I’m not gonna get it.” An amused puff of air hit Dean like a mild breeze. Sam looked back at the door, considering his options. Sam knew of only four people who knew they were here. Kevin, Charlie, Garth, and Castiel.

And the first three most likely would have called beforehand. Kevin was in Garth’s houseboat, Charlie was off doing her own thing (and she ALWAYS called) Garth, well, garth is garth. He never showed up uninvited. And Cas…he showed up every now and then. But there was the possibility that it was someone else. Sam eyed the small figure.

“Do you want to come with me? Or….” Sam watched the little lips purse as dean thought for a moment.

“I think, I’ll stay here.” he said slowly. Sam nodded and scooped his brother off his chest, moving his computer off his stomach with his other hand and sitting up.

“I feel better.” Dean told Sam as the hand moved upwards when the bigger Winchester stood up.

“Glad to hear it.” He turned on the heating pad and the knocks rang through the halls once again, slower this time.

“So if it’s a friend, do I tell them you’re here? Like this?”  
Huh. He hadn’t thought about that. He looked up into the mildly concerned face of his little brother

“Uh, your call Sammy.” Trusting his brother to make the best decision. It was scary giving someone else this choice.

“Okay Dean.” He moved his hand to the night table. Dean was feeling better if he was able to crawl off his palm onto the heating pad. (okay, he may have tilted his hand a bit, but it was only to help him) he made sure the heating pad was working and made sure there was water in the bottle cap.

“So I’ll…be back.” Said the hunter as he walked out the door. He walked down the hallway hearing the knocking. It was very slow this time. Like the knocker was giving up hope. Sam grabbed a gun from one of several stashes he and Dean had hidden around the base. This one was in an easily accessible spot behind the ancient computers near the door. Walking up the curving staircase to the big metal door, he made sure the salt line was in place. One could never be too careful.  
He moved a small circle from the door to peek out the peephole. It was Castiel.

“Cas!” Sam exclaimed, opening up the door. The ex-angel looked tired and worn, like every time he came back, but like always he gave Sam a genuine, warm smile.

“Hello Sam.” Castiel smiled. Ever since the angel had fallen a few months ago, he traveled around a lot. The brothers offered him a place in the bunker, but for some reason he preferred to travel for weeks at a time to some small town or other picking up random jobs, but always coming back after a few weeks before heading out again soon after. He had his own room in the bunker along with a few sets of clothes and other things that humans tend to accumulate.

“You know the drill.” Castiel sighed as Sam reached for the holy water and silver knife on a table set by the door for this purpose. Once the holy water was sprayed, and a small cut on a finger made, he opened the door wider for the other man to enter.

“You didn’t call.” It was a statement, not a question. Every time previous when he was headed back to the bunker he would call. Once or twice he and dean would rush back from a hunt to pick him up or open the door. Sometimes it stunk that the bunker only had one key. Castiel let out a weary sigh.

“Most of my belongings were stolen when I was a few miles away. My phone wasn’t, but the money and charger were.” Sam had noticed that he wasn't carrying his usual duffle.

“Loose anything important?”

“My angel blade and phone are still with me. I had nothing else of value or that can’t be replaced.” They both walked down the stairs. The man pulled off his trench coat with stiff movements. Sam saw purple and blue skin as well as blood on his wrists

“What happened?” he inquired, trying to get a better look at the injury.

“I never said they didn’t try to take my phone.” He tilted his head with a wry smile. The ex-angel was attached to only a few items. His angel blade and trench coat, of course, but dean had let him pick out his own phone and he cherished it. Sam knew the fact that it held pictures of the three of them was one of the reasons he was fond of it.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” The smaller man followed him to one of the bigger bathrooms. This wasn’t the first time Cas had come back beaten and bloody. Last time it was much worse and Dean nearly had a heart attack when he picked him up a few towns away. After Castiel took a quick shower Sam bandaged up a few cuts and scrapes and helped bind his ribs where a mark that looks suspiciously like a boot was imprinted on his left side. Once he had on fresh clothes and was slurping on a warm cup-a-soup did he finally ask the question Sam was waiting for.

“Is Dean here?” surely Cas saw the Impala parked outside the door. Dean rarely went anywhere without it.

The relationship between the older hunter and the ex-angel was frustrating at best. Castiel was a part of their family. Sam loved him dearly. But Dean loved him differently, and was loath to admit it. Even if the former angel was his best friend other than his brother, he had other feelings for him. A blind man could see that. Sometimes when they were together the silence was comfortable, other times it was strained. Castiel respected boundaries. He got better at them once he became human. But what was going on between him and his brother was a complicated mess of issues and ridiculous events. Like the apocalypse. There were times in the past years when his brother and friend were in the same room and doing that staring thing between each other, it was like eye fucking and it made Sam feel like a very uncomfortable third wheel.  
Castiel was family. He deserved to know.

“Yeah. Dean’s here. He’s sick.” The former garrison leader sat up straighter.

“Sick?” The spork was lowered into the noodles.

“It’s a bad cold. Drained his energy. He’ll be good in a few days.”

“Oh.”

“There’s something else." Those bright blue eyes could look into your very soul. They used to, not so long ago.

“Uhh…y’know how this place has tons of ancient magical items ?”

“Ye-es.” Was the slow reply, not understanding where this conversation was going.

“We’ve learned that some of the magical items still work.” Lines formed between two dark eyebrows. Not only could those eyes look into your soul, but they would pierce it too.

“Dean accidentally touched something he shouldn’t have.” Eyebrows went up.

“He shrunk.” Now the eyebrows were down low over the eyes in confusion and slowly raised in understanding.

“How small?” Sam picked up a hand and held two fingers apart in what he guessed was Dean’s current height.

“That is, quite small.”

“Tell me about it.” Sam told him what happened not so long ago, when Dean shrunk, how he was found, and what the situation was. He didn’t mention the fact that he nearly lost him in the car.

“He needs to stay warm. The heating pad works but body heat is better. Also our voices are really loud to him, so keep it quiet and low.” Castiel nods.

“And he has a cold?”

“mm. It makes him sleep more.”

“Can I see him?” that made Sam pause.

“I’ll ask. The curse will wear off in less than 30 hours, so unless you don’t vamoose before then, you’ll see him at his regular size.”

“Alright.” With nothing more said, the previous heaven resident turned back to his noodles. Sam walked back to his room to find Dean sleeping. He wasn’t surprised, but apparently the sound of the door opening woke him up. At least now he could sit up by himself. Sam lowered himself to the floor in front of the nightstand. Head almost level with the little man.

“Cas is back.”

“How’s he doin?”

“Not too bad, only a few bumps this time. He’s eating in the kitchen.”

“Why didn’t he call first?”

“Someone stole most of his stuff. Including his charger on his way back. Looks like he hitchhiked again.”

“That idiot. He could have used a pay phone!” Dean dragged his hand through his hair in frustration.

“It’s a good thing he didn’t.” Sam answered quietly.“That would have meant me leaving to pick him up, and taking you with me.”

“Oh.”

“He wanted to know if he can see you. It’s your call if you want to see him. Like this. The curse will wear off in less than 30 hours so if you don’t, you can still see him when you change back.” The smaller man took in a deep breath and closed his eyes in thought. He was so still that for a moment Sam thought that he had fallen back asleep while sitting up!

“What do you want to do?”

“I want to finish the nap I was interrupted from, and then see that asshole who doesn’t call when he’s in trouble.”That’s dean. The more you’re loved the worse he insults you.

“So I’ll be checking in every fifteen minutes?”

“Whatever, giant bitch.” Dean said rolling over, shutting out the cruel world and helpful, bigger brother. But they both knew that he would be checking in every quarter hour. He lift the door open a little bit when he walked out of the room.

Castiel had gone to his own room so Sam was free for a bit. Usually he would be researching hunts but with Dean out for the count at the moment he didn’t think it was the best idea. But hunters know how to stay busy. He cleaned his guns, and the one’s hidden around the base. One behind a green book, two strapped under tables, three in storage rooms, one in a top drawer in the kitchen. All the while checking in on Dean’s small slumbering form periodically. After the third check-in Dean was up. Sam offered lunch and Dean readily agreed. They found the bunkers other resident in the kitchen, trying to make a PB and J.

“Sam, did you run out of peanut butter?” he accused turning around. He glared at the younger Winchester and then followed his shifting gaze down to his chest where his hand was pressed up next to, holding what looked to be from that distance a handkerchief. Castiel’s gaze softened as he realized who he was looking at. Sam and Castiel both migrated to the table and at down. Sam moved his hand and slowly slid both man and cloth onto the table. From here Castiel could see Dean clearly. The cone of paper was placed close to the small man, close enough for him to lean to his right and speak into it.

“Hello Dean.” He whispered.

“Hey Cas.” He spoke into the makeshift megaphone. Dean kneaded the white cloth over his legs between his fingers. This vantage point was plain fuckin weird. He was so used to looking down at Castiel (well literally, not figuratively) and now here he was, the size he once claimed to be.

“Not so far from Chrysler building size huh?” he joked. A small smile grew from a corner of the new human’s mouth.

“If only you could have seen me then.”

“How are you in this, state?” he continued. Dean shrugged lightly.

“Not too bad. Sammy’s been taking care of me. Almost like when I used to when he was a hairy infant.” Right on cue, Sammy’s bitchface made an appearance.

“I was not a hairy baby.” He objected. Dean waked his hand in Sam’s general direction without looking.

“Please, you were like an ewok in a diaper and onesie.” This was familiar. The brothers teasing each other was safe territory. It was when they were ignoring each other that meant that things were bad.  
In truth, Sam was a pretty un-hairy child. And only when he was eight did he start to refuse haircuts and grew his hair longer.

“I was going to make some lunch for me and Dean, you want?” Sam interrupted his train of thought.

“Only if you have creamy peanut butter and grape jelly.” Both Sam and Dean knew that the specific combination was a favorite of his. But they were in a cabinet that he hadn’t checked yet.

“Of course.” Sam walked to a lower cabinet and pulled out new jars of both spreadable sandwich aids. Where at least three jars of each were kept. The smile that Castiel gave was a true one. Sam pulled the bread out of the old-fashioned breadbox. A real breadbox.

“Toasted?”

“No thank you.” Sam shrugs and pops his own bread in the toaster after bringing the jars, a plate two knives and two slices to the table.

“Would you like?” the bruised man asked the small hunter.

“A very small piece please. Not crust.” Castiel nodded and commenced with the making of the sandwich.

Dean had read once that in some parts of the world that tea ceremonies were almost a religious-like procedure. With specific ways it MUST be done. The way Castiel made PB and J must have been somewhere up on that list. The man concentrated on getting the thickness of the peanut butter just right, and the jelly was placed in a square shape in the middle, and then moved around when the two pieces met and were squished together. It was eaten down one bite at a time downwards. Not turned at all.  
Not like Dean paid attention to the way Castiel did everything when he was around.

What surprised Dean was while he was watching, before Cas took a single bite he tore the sandwich in half, and ripped off a small piece between his fingers, passing it to Dean in his blanket, who was shell-shocked from the break in the procedure that he just blinked at the large lump of PB & J held in front of him.

“Thanks.” He finally croaked out, lifting both his arms up to retrieve the sandwich. They munched through the soft bread as Sam scraped the condiments onto his toast. He crunching was quite loud to Dean who flinched slightly at the first bite. The three of them ate in silence, enjoying the company.

PB&J never tasted so good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yeah, did I forget to mention that in my story Kevin’s not dead?  
> Oops.  
> He’s not dead. And Cas is human! Surprise! *blows a noisemaker*


	10. chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Re-reading this chapter I may have made it a bit more Destiel-ish than I thought I did. But no harm, no foul. It just makes the story sweeter. Those idiots will be the death of me.

The three men sat in comfortable silence, enjoying their sandwiches. Sam watched as his brother reached over to the lump that was nearly as big as he was, tear off a shred of the white bread, dragged it through the dark peanut butter and even darker jelly, and devour it ravenously. It was good to see him getting his appetite back. But something was missing…..

Coffee.

 All three of them were caffeine addicts and a warm cup would make the lunch taste even better. With well-practiced moves Sam filled up the very expensive coffee maker that he convinced Dean to buy a few weeks ago. As much as Dan had bitched and complained about the price, once he had a taste of the fresh brewed black manna, he shut up.

He returned to his seat once the coffee started to brew but within moments three noses pointed skyward and inhaled with the thick scent of java goodness. The percolator became the focus point of the room as the container began to fill.

 Once three small dings were heard Sam quickly got up to make the cups. Sam and Dean both used the mugs that the base provided, but Cas had his own mug that he brought back a while ago. It was over sized, and bright green with white poka dots. But he liked it. So it stayed. What was more surprising was the fact that Dean never teased him about it!

Cas liked his coffee with milk and sugar, Sam liked his with milk and creamer. Dean liked dark and sweet. But the problem of the hour was how to get his brother his coffee.  
Sam prepared Cas’s mug and gave it to him, and went back to the counter to make dean some. He mixed a little of both coffee and sugar in a mug and decided to make it like all of the other liquids: in a water bottle cap. But when he turned around with his own mug and Dean’s he was pleasantly surprised to find Castiel sharing from his own cup.  
The former angel had poured a few drops onto a plate and had moved Dean, hankie and all on to it, angling Dean by the coffee so he could cup the liquid in his (teeny little) hands and drink from the tiny bead of coffee that he held.

 Sam blinked. This was unexpected. But heartwarming. He brought both mugs to the table and drank from his own, continuing with what was left of his sandwich. Which wasn’t much. Even with savoring the sandwich, it didn’t last long. Both he and Castiel made another sandwich as Dean continued to work on his own.

Halfway through the lump of sandwich, Dean gave up. He wiped his hands in the soft bread like a towel and laid down on his blanket. Letting out a sigh of content both men could hear with the help of the megaphone.

 “Tired?” Castiel asked.

“Nah, just content.” Sam knew that the real meaning underneath content was happy. From the softening of Castiel’s face it looked like he heard the implication too.  
The ex-angel slowly reached his hand over to where Dean lay. He looked like he was trying not to spook a frightened animal. Carefully, he laid his hand flat over the handkerchief, Dean between his pointer and thumb. Well, really close to his pointer finger. Dean opened his emerald eyes when he felt heat coming from somewhere close. He wasn’t surprised to find a hand nearby. What was surprising was the fact that the hand didn’t belong to his brother!

 “Sam told me you needed to stay warm.” Castiel offered. Dean turned his head to look at the nearby hand, and then looked back up at his friend.

“Thanks.” He scooted closer to the offered digit, once again surprising his brother. After three beats of silence Castiel once again spoke.

“Can I pick you up? That plate doesn’t look very comfortable.”

“It’s not.” Dean sits up and shifts in his seat. His head tilts back to try and look Castiel in the eye. The big bright blue orbs are waiting for an answer to react to.

“Yes. You can pick me up. Please.” Two hands came together to scoop up the man and his blanket. It wasn’t uncomfortable, this gentle moving process. But Dean did get shifted around and held on tightly to the cloth covering his legs. He wasn’t wearing any pants and now felt like a good time to become self-conscious.

Oh sure, walking around in nothing but boxers was fine with his brother. They grew up together. But this felt different. More….intimate? That scared Dean. Dean Winchester was not a man who was easily scared. The two hands easily shifted him into the palm of one and relaxed on the tabletop, fingers curling gently.

 “Is this alright?” Castiel asked gently.

“This is great, thanks.” Dean shifted and scooted backward until he was mostly under the shadow of the fingers that curved overhead. Only then did he lie down.

“Are you going to sleep?” Sam asked.

“No, just resting.” Because of the distance between them, only Castiel heard the hunter in his hand. All Sam heard was a slight buzz. Sam looked at Castiel who mouthed Dean’s reply to him. Sam nodded. Dean had closed his eyes and missed it.

“I’m going to finish cleaning the guns.” He said stepping away from the table.  
A silent agreement happened that Dean would stay with Cas. It was sealed with a small but sure nod.

 “Tell gigantor to get the ones in the trunk. I know he forgot about those.” He didn’t even open his eyes when he talked.  
“Dean reminds you to get the ones from the trunk.” Sam scowled at the hand his brother was in. “I was going to do those next.”

 “Yeah right.” Castiel raised his eyebrows and dictated what Dean said. A fond smile found its way on his face as he walked out of the kitchen. Castiel finished his sandwich and coffee, downing the last of the dregs from his mug. The silence was a comfortable one, but questioning. Castiel knew Dean was awake by the way he was breathing. It would have been slower and deeper had he been asleep.

“What do you want to do?” Dean peeked one eye open and opened the other one when he realized that he was expected to answer.

“Dunno. Can’t do much at this size. Sam and I were watching shows mostly.”

“Would you mind watching another?” Dean shrugged.

“Not much else I can do.” Castiel picked up his plate and mug and placed them in the sink. He’d wash them later when he wasn’t holding someone. He picked up the paper megaphone from the table, though he didn’t know when Dean would be far enough from him to use it. With his hand at a 90 degree angle from his chest he walked out of the kitchen.

Dean didn’t like being held like this. He preferred the hand next to the chest, like when Sammy held him. This felt too much like flying. Made him nervous.

“Hey! Cas!” he waved his arms like he was trying to flag down a plane. (In hindsight, that was almost what he was doing.) The feet stopped moving as the hand was brought closer to the giant face.

“Yes Dean?”

Holy. Shit.

Those huge blue eyes were boring holes through him. He resisted the urge to squirm under that gaze.

“Don’t hold your hand out! It’s unstable and shaky! Bring it next to your chest like Sam did.”

“My apologies” he murmured and lowered the hand to his broad, warm chest.  
Now this was better. The tiny man moved around to get comfortable as his current mode of transportation continued to walk. He busied himself with his hands, buttoning up his shirt, smoothing out his blanket, moving it around. He was avoiding looking up. Now that Cas was no longer playing with the halo crowd he no longer had his permanent 5 o’clock shadow. Now he shaved, occasionally. He didn’t like beards but he like a bit of scruff. He knew that if he looked up he’d see all of that up close. And it didn’t look good up close. Well, from this perspective at least. Rubbing a normal sized hand down a cheek covered in dark stubble would look good….

NO.

No thinking of that.

Save those thoughts for later.

Like 30 hours later.

When he could be ALONE alone.

Change the subject.

“You wanna watch something specific?” he called up without looking upwards.

“mmmm” the answering hum vibrated through him. The rest of the walk was silent as Castiel entered his room. Sam had bought him a laptop a little while after he fell. Saying that “everyone needs a computer in this day and age.” And gave him a few lessons on how to use it. It was a small thing called a smart book. But it was portable. He brought it with him the first time he went out on one of his outings and when it was almost stolen left it with the brothers. He used it on occasion. Once he took it out of a drawer and out onto the desk in his room did he pause. He shifted his gave downward to his passenger.

“Would you like to watch here? Or somewhere else?” Dean shrugs as his living platform moves skywards to the Rushmore face.

“Sam got me a heating pads. There’s one in the main room on the map table. I don’t mind watching here I just don’t…wanna get cold.” He looks down as he admits the end of the sentence. The big eyes blink.

“So stay where you are. Do you not like being held?” Dean picks his head up in surprise.

“What? No! Its ah nice actually…” he trails off not believing that he admitted it. Castiel watched as a blush colored the little face bright red. Castiel’s shoulders jumped in a small laugh and booted up the computer, plugging the charger into the wall single handedly. He sat down in the plush desk chair and moved the chair so much that his torso was touching the desk. Then he brought his hand down to rest on the desk, but still tucked into his torso. This wasn’t what Dean meant, but it was no use complaining. The heat coming off the wall of Cas was inviting. With no air moving in the room Dean could tell that Cas smelled faintly of vanilla. Not like vanilla perfume, the real deal extract stuff. As Cas began typing into the search engine he brought the older Winchester up to his face. This up and down business was beginning to feel less like an elevator and more like an amusement park ride gone wrong.

 “Do you like anime?” That was not a question he ever expected to hear from another man.

“Uh, nothing wrong with it.” He knew that Cas knew he liked Busty Asian Beauties. But that didn’t seem to be where the conversation was headed.

“Would you like to watch one? I know of a good one and I think you’ll like it.”

“Okaaayyy.” He replied slowly, eyeing the bigger man like he was expecting him to yell PSYCHE!  
His platform moved back down to the desk. The megaphone was placed on the table by the end of the palm.

 “Three weeks ago I found a job at a thrift shop in a small town. A few days after I got the job a young woman kept following me around the store, asked me questions, told me about herself. A general nice person. When she found out I had little to no movie knowledge she invited me over to her place. I refused. She didn’t let up. She was relentless. After two constant days of begging and pleading I gave in. Turns out she was kind of an outsider in her small town, “a hippie and free spirit in a town of rednecks” She called herself, as soon as she turns 18 she plans on getting out of there. We watched some movies, and once she found out I was sleeping in the store she insisted I stay on her couch. It was nice to make a friend who wasn’t out for something. Or trying to kill me. After the first week she introduced me to anime. It’s a very interesting way of making movies and shows. She introduced me to a show called kill la kill. I think you’ll like it.”

Dean was quiet for a moment, letting the words sink in. Angel Castiel almost never said this much at once. Certainly never told stories about himself like this.  
One would think that they watched the first episode in silence. In truth it was anything but.

 “She just bit into a fucking lemon like an apple!”

“Tay said that’s how you know she’s badass.”

“Who’s Tay?”

“The girl I was telling you about. She said that this was an anime that made fun of anime while still having a good plot.”

Dean had a lot more commentary.  
“What’s up with the eyebrows?”  
“Is the gamagori guy 8 feet tall or 15? Or both?”  
“She had a nut-job scientist for a dad, and went to boarding schools for most of her life. No wonder she turned out all angst ridden like that”  
“The green haired dude pisses me off.”

As the episode continued with breasts, short skirts, fighting, yelling, accusing and more fighting so did the excitement radiating from Dean. When the ending theme played he glanced upward to ask for the next episode but what he didn’t expect to see the big blue eyes practically twinkling down at him, waiting for his response.

 “Can we watch the next episode?” he pleads upwards. The larger man nods and with a few clicks the next episode is on screen and starting.  
They get through five episodes in good spirits, with commentary from both men. But then Castiel had noticed that the small hunter has fallen silent for the past few minutes. His gaze moves down, trying to look down without tucking his chin into his collarbone or letting the little man know he was looking at him.  
When he realized that Dean was breathing deeply he turned his head down. Dean was sleeping! Sprawled out on his stomach, arms akimbo and mouth open. Possibly drooling on his blanket.

 Castiel didn’t mind. He paused the show and used his other hand to look up information about small mammals. He was a bit worried about how much Dean was sleeping. He was napping not three hours ago. And now he was in la-la land once more. Even if he was sick, this wasn’t normal for Dean.

 As it turns out smaller creatures eat and sleep more BECAUSE of their small bodies. Little hearts beat faster to keep their bodies warm and expend more energy, needing more food and sleep, and when they aren’t sleeping most small mammals spend time foraging for food or raising young or….copulating. A quick glance down confirmed that Dean was doing none of the last three things listed. Actually, Dean had shifted in his sleep, snuggling under a folded layer of cotton cloth to shift to his side. His breathing evened out mere moments after she stopped moving, the tiny chest rising and falling, almost too small to tell. Now that he was a smaller, the sickness was draining him of his energy almost as fast as he could produce it. The angel had seen sick people and had healed the brothers of various colds and a few other diseases when he healed them of flesh wounds. He didn’t think that Sam knew about the fact that he once had an std that had the angel had cured a few days after he received it.

He wasn’t going to bring it up. However, it was ideal for future blackmail.

But if Dean being cold meant that his heart rate would speed up…that could be disastrous! His hand curled a little tighter around his minuscule friend, covering him in a cave of warm, protective flesh.

Castiel realizes that Dean should have some food when he wakes up. Something choleric that’ll give him energy. Like one of those snacks Sam calls junk food. Or chocolate. Dean likes chocolate. They probably have some chocolate in the base right?

One annoying thing about being human is the way everyone is headed to the bathroom. Always headed to the porcelain throne! It wasn’t too bad. He could “hold it in” as long as Dean woke up within the next half hour or so. It took a while to learn the limitations of this now-permanent body of his. At one point he was convinced he could “hold it in” for a few hours. Then he sneezed. Luckily there was already a load in the washing machine in the base at the time.

It had been about half an hour from when the show was paused that Dean began to stir. He shifted on to his back and gazed up at the stubbled face watching him wake up. With wide, sweeping motions he gestured for Castiel to come closer. Instead of going down, Castiel brought his hand up.

“Bathroom please?” Little body, little heart, little bladder.

“I was thinking of heading there myself.” He once again tucked his hand into his chest and walked out of the room. But where would Dean urinate? Or for that matter, defecate? He was much too small to even think of using the toilet.

“Sam set up something for me. Head to the bathroom near his room.” Of course. he turned around and set a new path.

“On my way.”


	11. Chapter 11

If there’s one thing Dean Winchester doesn’t like, its being helpless. Not being able to fend for himself. He prided himself on being able to take care of not only himself, but his brother.And now…now he was the size of a pebble. Unable to complete the most basic of tasks, like getting food or even going anywhere without help. It royally sucked. But ever since he was shrunk, he realized there was no way out of this other than the curse ending. Until then, he wouldn’t be able to do the things he liked. But he wouldn’t bitch about it either. Because it was too much of a risk that the person helping him might not if he complained too much.

Sam would never abandon him, or Cas wouldn’t let him starve but still… he could have easily been dropped off in a pocket for a few hours and totted around. Or left on a heating pad on a table. Comfortable prisons.

So he’s been trying to look at this in the best way possible. He HAD to let others care for him. And it wasn’t too bad. His need were simple. Food, drink, warmth, a trip to the bathroom every now and then. Nothing to crazy.  
He was annoying Sam in the beginning, yes. But he stopped all together after the bribe. And then, it was nice to be carted around easily. Especially when he felt so crappy about being sick. He sneezed.

“Bless you.” Castiel whispered from above. Dean smiled. He was the one to teach him about the proper reaction to sneezes. Even if he wasn’t “blessing” someone. In less than a minute they were outside the bathroom two doors down from Sam’s room.

Another thing, Castiel was really gentle with him. They've had fights and good times in the past, but he couldn’t recall the ex angel ever being this gentle with him. Well…in all fairness if he had tried to act this way around regular sized Dean, he would have been punched. It was nice to see this side of him.  
What would be even better right now would be a chance to move his legs but since he was only wearing his boxers underneath the blanket he refused to walk with the hankie around his waist. Especially since he’d never make it more than a few inches.

Upon entering the bathroom, Castiel noticed the cap set on the countertop of the sink. So that was what Sam did. He slowly slipped Dean and his handkerchief off his hand and on the porcelain counter. But Dean didn’t get up, holding on to the layer of cloth covering his legs. He looked up at the large face that expected him to get up.

“Can you get my pants from Sam?” he called up.

Oh.

That would explain why Dean hadn’t gotten up at all. He never liked “parading around in his underwear” with anyone except his brother. He hadn’t stood up at all because he wasn’t wearing pants! No wonder he was laying around!

“No problem.”

“Thanks Cas.”

“So I just, leave you here?”

“I’ll be fine for a few minutes of privacy.” Dean assured him.

“Ok. I’ll get your pants from Sam and be back in a few minutes.” Castiel closed the door most of the way and knocked on Sam’s door.

“Come in.” was the muffled reply. Sam was relaxed on his bed, reading a small book. His eyes traveled down to the hands where he saw that Castiel wasn’t carrying someone. He quirked an eyebrow in question.

“He’s in the bathroom, and he would like his pants.”

“I’m sure he would.” Sam reached over to his night table and plucked a small piece of blue denim from the heating pad.

“Maybe I should bring it to him.” Sam says after a moment of thought.

“Good idea. Dean is uncomfortable about letting me see his underwear.”  
He is? Sam wondered why. Sam dog-eared the page he was on and left the small paperback on his bed. Castiel leaned over to look at the book.

“That looks like a children’s book.”

“It is.” Sam confirmed. The confused look in Castiel’s eyes prompted him to continue.

“Dean and I found a copy of this book in a motel when we were kids. He read it to me and we both loved it. When he shrunk he referenced it and I bought a copy for old time’s sake. It’s about a giant who kidnaps a little girl but he’s friendly and nice and catches dreams and there are evil giants and the good giant and the girl save the queen of England….” He trailed off seeing that he’d lost the angel with his description.

“It’s a good story.” He picked the book off the bed and passed it to his friend.

“Check it out while I get Dean.” Sam walks past Castiel out to the door

“Can you take him for now?” gets asked at his back

“You done with him already?” Sam jokes, turning around.

“No! I just need, to use the bathroom.”

“No problem man. All you had to do was ask.” He pats the smaller man on the shoulder to let him know everything was fine. Sam waits outside the bathroom door for a few minutes to give Dean some time. He knocks gently and poked his head in.

“Dean? It’s me. I have your pants.” He sees the little man waiting, standing in the handkerchief wrapped around his waist. He let it drop as he was handed the itty-bitty jeans. Sam crouches near the sink, pretending to tie his shoe. Dean appreciates it.

“Thanks Sammy. I thought I was going to have to go underneath to put these on.” He says as he shifts into the pants. Sam offers his hand. Dean climbs on in good spirits to wash and dry his hands. Once those are done he buckles his belt. Sam picks up the handkerchief with his other hand and walks out the door.

Dean’s a little confused. Why did Sam come to bring him his pants? It’s not that he doesn’t appreciate it, but why? Sam walks into his room and both brothers find Castiel on the bed, engrossed in a book.

“Your turn.” Sam tilts his head at the door when the man looks up.

“Thank you.” He leaves the book on the bed and hurries out the door, as if he suddenly remembered his full bladder. Sam makes his way over to the oversized bed, and slouches in it, upper back and head against the backboard. He sets Dean down on the slightly vertical landscape of his chest, Hankie behind him.

“Cas didn't want to leave you alone when he went to the bathroom.” He explained. He wouldn’t admit it, but it was a little fun being able to pick up his bother and place him wherever.

“Put me down Sammy. I want to walk around.” Sam’s eyebrows go up at the surprising request.

“There’s no way I’m letting you walk around on the floor.” Sam tells his brother. Dean crosses his arms.

“Come on man, I've been lying around all day! I’m tiny, not crippled.” Well technically he was. Crippled meant not able to get around properly. And he couldn’t. Not really. Sam shifted down on the bed, bringing his chest to a level surface and Dean falling to his knees.

“What the hell man?!” the little man yelled. Sam chuckled, and Dean felt it rumble underneath his feet. It was like a small earthquake. A plaid-covered earthquake.

“Now you have plenty of room to walk around.” He happily stated.

“You want me, to walk around, on you?”

“It’s better than the floor. Not like you’ll get cold on my chest or lost.”

Lost. Oh. Now Dean understands. He feels the heart beating underneath the chest over to his left. Its surreal.

“Fine.” Dean turns his back and Sam barely feels those little socked feet walk down his sternum and over his ribs. Under two layers of shirts Sam has hard, smooth muscles but the shirts are a little rough, giving him the traction he needs to walk. Dean teeters a bit with every breath his brother takes. He feels someone watching him and turns around. Sam is definitely not looking at him, head turned and eyes moving around the room. Yeah right. Dean nearly trips over the dip that created the definition of the first ab in the six-pack his brother is sporting. A dip upward of the stomach tells him that Sam is holding in a laugh. Dean continues on his walk, taking big steps to stretch out his legs. He hasn’t gotten much exercise since he’s been shrunken. Well, climbing his brother, but that was kind of a life or death situation. Kinda.

The bones change under his feet as he gets to the pelvis and he makes a u-turn to head back up the chest. Sam is looking at a book being held open by his right hand. Its small and looks familiar somehow. He can’t make out the words on the back cover from this distance but the cover looks like he saw it before. He makes his way up the chest and making sure that Sam sees him, on to that arm holding the book. Once he gets closer he can make out the letters that are half his size. A shadow quickly moving over him makes him jump and the other hand that was reaching for the book pauses.

“Sorry.” Sam apologizes. He picks up the book with his left hand and settles it on his chest. Dean walks back up the arm and settles down on an indentation under the collarbone. Sam tucks his pillow under his head with slow movements that prop his head up.

“I think know this book.” Dean says. Sam says nothing and turns the page to show an illustration of a small girl in the hand of an old guy with ginormous ears.  
“This is the BFG!” he stumbles to a quick stand and turns around meeting the hazel gaze.

“When did you get this?”

“When you were napping in my pocket. I also picked up your doctor show at the same time.” Sam whispers as gently as he can. A PB&J scented breeze blows in Dean’s direction. It doesn’t bother him, he’s smelled much worse.

“I read this to you when you were little….” Dean trails off looking to the side, realizing what he said.

“Maybe I could read it to you now?” Sam hedges. Dean watches an Adams apple his size bob up and down with a nervous swallow when he didn’t answer.  
He did NOT think about the fact that he could hear the swallowing.

“Let’s read it together.” Sam dips his chin in a small nod and turns to the first page. Dean settles back into the hollow under the collarbone. Even through two layers, Sam’s body heat still feels great.

They’re both fast readers. Hunting demands that. Checking though newspapers, police work, notes, lore online all need to be read and absorbed in a minimum amount of time. But reading for fun is a rare occurrence. Maybe a secondhand book once in a while between hunts or in the car but there wasn’t time in their lifestyle to read for the joy of it.  
But this was different. Absorbing the story for the story. They both read at the same pace, enjoying the pictures that took up half a page but played a very important part in telling the story. By the time they were ten pages in, Castiel knocked on the door. Sam looked to Dean who shook his head.

“We’re busy right now.” Sam said in a regular but low voice as to not hurt Dean’s ears.  
 

Castiel was a little disappointed. He enjoyed spending time with Dean, especially like this. There was no chance of the man running off when things got uncomfortable. He did that. Often.  
He was about to walk away when he hears Sam call out “Wait!” he waits.

“Dean says…that he looks forward to watching…what? Really? ……the rest of the anime with you later.”

“I look forward to it as well. Later.” He replies, getting the message. He walks away from the door and hears a muffled “Anime? With Cas?”

Sam and Dean both settle back to reading the story.

Less than an hour later the story was finished. Sam rests the book over his stomach and looks out into the middle distance, eyes unfocused, thinking about the story.

“I convinced you that cucumbers were snozzcumbers.” A little voice interrupts his thoughts.

“Yeah, and I shoved one in your mouth while you were sleeping.” Sam sniggered as he remembered Dean waking up to find a large cucumber balanced in his mouth. Dean didn’t even mind the gentle bouncing caused by his brother’s laughter.

“You got me back for that by screaming into a pipe by my ear and telling me you were trying to give me good dreams!” Dean laughed at the memory.

“Good times, good times. That was one of our first prank wars!”

“Hmm.” Sam hums in agreement. He brings his gaze down to his big-little brother, makes sure he’s in a stable place, and flexes both arms out in a long stretch. Flexing his hands as he reaches out. Dean puts both hands down for stabilization as arms the size of track fields reach out.

“You’re not the only one that wants to stretch his legs. Mind if I drop you off with Cas while I go for a jog?”

“Nah.” Dean stretched out his own arms and back, a tiny mimicry of what Sam did. Sam dropped a hand down on his chest a few inches away from his bother. Dean climbed on easily, smiling at Sam when he was brought close to the big face for a once over.  
Sam held his brother away from him as he shifted his legs off the bed and the rest of himself into a vertical position, making sure to grab Dean’s blanket as he walks out of the room, carrying his brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An English writing professor one told me: “don’t give the readers everything. Sometimes make them confused. Make them work for it. don’t hand over everything on a silver platter 1-2-3.” (I’m paraphrasing) On that note I don’t apologize at all for including one of my favorite books when I was a kid, The BFG. by Rold Dahl, (Author of well-loved classics such as Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and Matilda)
> 
> If you wish to fully understand the conversation at the end of the chapter, I suggest you read it. It's a lovely story.
> 
> I had no Idea I was going to post another chapter this soon. I was just in the writing mood. I have no Idea when I'm going to be able to write more.
> 
> THIS STORY IS NOT GOING TO BE ABANDONED. By all I consider holy, this WILL get finished!
> 
> Did I not Inform you that I have a Tumblr?  
> http://helloootricksterr.tumblr.com/


	12. chapter 12

Dean didn’t mind going to Cas. Cas was his best friend (aside from Sam), and Cas (like Sam) would never do anything to hurt him. But somehow being with Cas was different than being with Sam. He couldn’t explain it. If someone had asked him to explain it he’s shrug his shoulders and reply “eh, dunno”.

So when he and Sam were on their way to Castiel’s room, Dean couldn’t explain the happiness he felt on the idea of spending more time with Cas. Dean heard the music before Sam did, Dean knew the moment Sam heard it, because he stopped in his tracks. The gentle guitar and tambourine was familiar.

“You’re thinking of me/the same old way.  
You were above me/but not today.  
The only difference is you’re down there.  
I’m looking through you/and you’re nowhere!” the music called out.

Sam had caught the last few lines, and peered down at the brother in his hand, head tilted.

“That’s a ridiculously apt song for you right now.”

“har de har mister funnypants. Just knock already”

“Why tell me why did you not treat me right?  
Love has a nasty habit of disappearing overnight.” The song continued, but was paused as Sam knocked on the door. Cas opened the door, phone in hand. He blinked up at Sam, and down at Dean.

“I’d like to go for a jog. Dean doesn’t. How ‘bout you stay with him now?”  
Castiel bobbed his head in a nod and pocketed his phone, cupping both hands in front of Sam, waiting for him to transfer his brother.

Once Dean (along with his traveling accessories a.k.a, blanket and megaphone ((which was looking a bit rumpled from being handled too much))) was with Cas, Sam gave them a small smile and headed back to his own room. Probably to change into those grey sweatpants. Maybe even a sweatband around his head. Dean snickered at the thought. He’s have to buy Sam a pink set of sweatbands. Once he was big again.  
He looked not so far upwards to find big blue eyes crinkled in amusement.

“What’s so funny?” the stubbed face asked.

“I thought of a gag gift I need to order once this goddamn spell wears off.” Castiel tilts his head thoughtfully.

“Shouldn’t be more than 24 hours from now.” He muses.

“Thank goodness. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.” The once angel glances down as he moves back into his room.

“Has it really been that bad being small?” Dean looked upwards.

“Sam didn’t tell you what happened before he found me.” He stated. All traces of amusement leave the big face as he sits down at the desk, moving the hand holding Dean further out so they could converse properly. The important megaphone placed by the little man. Sam had told Castiel that Dean announced himself on his shoulder, but what was dean talking about?

“What happened?” he demanded. Cas looked angry. Which was weird. Castiel didn’t do angry often.

“Dude chill! Look, I was having lunch when I touched it, I shrunk, Sam saw my unguarded lunch and sat down in the seat. With me in it.”  
Two big nostrils flared. Sam had not mentioned that. Castiel had assumed that Dean made his way from the table up to his brothers shoulder.

“I climbed my way up to his ginormous ear and since then he’s been treating me like a Faberge egg! He couldn’t have known that I shrank!” Castiel calmed down a little. He was still frowning though. A thought occurred to him.

“I’d like a snack. Would you like something?” okay, random subject change, Dean could deal with that.

“Sure.” The man brings his hand in closer to his chest and walked out of the room.

“Where do you keep the chips?” he rumbled. Dean didn’t reply. Castiel stopped walking and brought the hand holding his friend up to his face.

“Dean?”

“No chips. It’s too loud and also creepy when giant chompers sound a hundred times louder.” Not to mention he was still a little freaked from what happened in the car…he wasn’t going to be eating potato chips for a few weeks.

“Popcorn?” Dean thought it over for a few moments.

“Nothing wrong with popcorn. We have some jiffy pop.”

“Wont that be too loud for you?” Cas asked, thinking of the popping. Dean shrugged.

“So leave me on the table while you pop it. No biggie.” A corner of the big mouth twisted into a slight grimace, but Castiel nods.  
After the popcorn has been popped, Cas scoops him up. It’s almost comforting how careful he is. If Sam was treating him like a Faberge egg, then Cas was treating him like the hope diamond! Like an object of reverence….  
Somehow the popcorn ends up under the hand holding Dean before it gets picked up and Dean gets a lungful of intense, fake butter scented steam. It fills his senses, chokes his  
throat and his body wants it OUT!

He coughs, quite hard.

Castiel panics.

“DEAN!” he yells far too loudly, bringing Dean up to his face. Dean flinches at the far too loud voice but it’s hidden under the next round of coughs once he manages to take in a breath. A big finger comes close, trying to help. Dean grabs it for support to stay sitting up while he coughs out the last of it.  
He finally manages to take in a few ragged breaths. Still holding on the finger. Without it, Dean doubts he’d still be sitting up. It feels like he coughed up his esophagus, and his chest hurts a little. His throat was feeling better before, now it feels red and raw. His torso and arms rest on the big finger provided.

“Dean?” the little head tilts upward. Two big, concerned eyes are really too fucking close, but Dean won’t say anything about it because he was scared for a moment too.

“Maybe you should keep the popcorn away until its cooled down.” He ended the sentence with a small cough. Another finger comes up from behind to gently rub his back. It feels nice. After a few more long (but not uncomfortable) moments, Dean moves off the finger.

“Put that on the list of things I never want to do again.” He weakly jokes upwards. But the big eyes don’t see him. They are turned down to the floor in shame.

“I’m sorry.” Was the downtrodden apology that came from Castiel’s mouth.

“For what?”

“I moved you over the steam. It wouldn’t have happened had I been more careful-“

“CAS!” Dean yells to interrupt. Castiel finally lifts his eyes to look at him. Those big blue eyes are filled with so much regret.

“It was an accident! Accidents happen! No one could foresee that the buttery steam would be a bad thing! I forgive you!” A gentle exhalation and a softening of the face and all of the muscles (dean feels the muscles underneath him loosen a bit) means that Cas believes him. Dean really, REALLY wants to give Castiel a hug right now. And in normal circumstances with them two alone he would have pulled him into a big bear hug, like every time he shows up at the bunker. But now, with the curse…

But Dean Winchester is nothing if not creative.

“Cas, bring me closer.” He says softly. He’s pretty damn close to that big face as it is, but Castiel complies. A few more instructions has the hand Dean’s sitting on touching Cas’s cheek and nose. The bigger man doesn’t complain but it’s an awkward angle and Cas’s eye is less than (literal) inches away. Dean stands up and walks on to the fingers and throws his arms over the front of the big nose. They don’t get very far but two dark eyebrows go up very fast.

The two big blue eyes cross, straining to see him. Underneath his arms the skin moves up and scrunches. It looks ridiculous. Dean immediately laughs. Castiel gently sways his head to the right, tipping dean off balance onto his butt. Castiel pulls his hand away from his face and rubs his nose.

“As nice as that hug was, it tickled!” a mischievous smile tugged at the corners of the bigger mouth. Dean scrambled to a stand and took a few steps back. That did him no good as he was standing in a fucking hand!

“it tickled, kind of like this!” a finger that offered support minutes ago now gently knocked dean onto his belly on the soft skin, rolled him over and rubbed at his stomach.  
Assault on a ridiculously ticklish spot sent Dean into instant hysterics! His abs and abdomen were rubbed gently by Castiel’s standards but very insistently. It was like being tickled by a Volkswagen beetle! A soft, warm, and careful Volkswagen that knew how to get to every ticklish inch of skin possible.

“Ca-ha-ha-ha-aaas!” he managed to wheeze out after almost a full minute of merciless tickling. The car sized finger finally retreats. Dean no longer feels like he might we himself. What a great feeling that is. He can’t remember the last time he was tickled like that. Maybe when Sam was still single digits and smaller than him. He can’t even recall the last time he laughed like that

“Once I’m bigger than you again, you are going to be jumped and ticked within an inch of your life!” he promised once the happy tears had been wiped and his breathing grew even. Dean Winchester keeps his promises.  
Castiel nods, his face a satisfied smile. He picks up the now mildly warm popcorn and walks out of the kitchen.

“Once you’re big enough to go more than a foot an hour, I’ll look out.”

Smug bastard.

“Hey! Let’s watch in the big room! Drop me and the popcorn off at the map table.”  
There’s something he’d been wanting to do.

Castiel follows his orders and drops both dean and the popcorn off at the map table. But he doesn’t go to get the computer, no. he grabs a seat and sits down. Dean looks up. He wasn’t expecting an audience. He wanted to do this alone.

“Why did you want to be here?” Castiel asks, curious. Dan looks down at his feet, his cheeks reddening slightly. He’s standing on the Indian Ocean. Not far from the Philippines and Papua New Guinea. He recalled that both Bobby and his father fought the Japanese somewhere over here decades ago. He looks up to a face awaiting his answer. His brother might laugh, but Cas, he wouldn’t.

“I wanted- Well, I wanted to walk around the world.” He confessed. For a moment the bigger face creased in confusion, but in less than two seconds he realized what Dean had meant.

“Go ahead. No one’s stopping you. I’ll go get my laptop.” Castiel turned his back and walked away.

“Thanks Cas.” Dean whispered at the retreating figure. He walked north and then followed the equator, stopping to stand on cities and countries he’d only heard of.  
Well, most of the countries on the map were outdated. Ukraine was a different size these days and there was no more Czechoslovakia. He made his way over to Scotland, humming spirit in the sky, trying to figure out where he and Sam had gone to burn Crowley’s bones when Castiel returned, standing at the end of the table, clutching his laptop to his chest with an arm. His eyes darted over the table in search of the little man.

“Dean?”

He couldn’t see him. Was he really that small? So easily overlooked? He cupped his hands over his mouth.

“I’m by Scotland!” he called out. The giant head perked up when he heard the small voice and he made his way over, closer to Europe. Only when his gaze finally found Dean did he let out a small sigh of relief and take the closest seat available. Dean was a little miffed about the fact it took Cas so long to find him. “You’re too small to be seen easily” a nasty voice whispered in his head. He ignored it.

“This is where we found Crowley’s bones.” He moved his left foot in a circular motion. Somewhere around that area. All those little towns and villages were hard to tell from one another except by name.

“The bones of the late Fergus McLeod.” Cas confirmed. Dean nodded, making his way to the computer that was being opened.

“Did you finish your walk around the world?” it was an honest question, even if there was a glimmer of humor around the eyes.

“I’ll finish it later. Let’s watch more anime.” Cas had brought his handkerchief and had set it in front of the computer. But that wasn’t where he was expecting to sit.

“Would you like me to get the heating pad?”  
No. No he didn’t. He wanted to sit in his hand again. It had be comforting, it had been safe. But maybe Cas didn’t want to hold him again.

In his moment of silence, Castiel was wondering if he had said the wrong thing. Surely Dean didn’t want to sit with him after moving him over that steam! He wasn’t careful enough! Why would dean continue to give him his trust at this size? But Dean was quiet. Not responding to his question.

“Would you like to sit with me again?” He questioned softly.

“Yeah. You’re warm.”

Oh. That was why.

Nice save Winchester. Nice save. You want to sit with him because he’s warm. Not for any other fucking reason. Like the fact he makes you feel safe, wanted, even loved.  
No, you had to say he was warm.

You stupid fuckup.

You can’t even man up tell the guy that you might have feelings for him! Like more-than-friends feelings! You don’t even care about the fact that he has a dick! You can’t even tell him how sad you get every time he walks out of here with a bag, headed to who-knows-where for who-knows-what-reason only to show up again later mugged by some idiot who might have killed him! At this point Dean has worked himself into a rut in his head of: looser, fuckup, cant admit your feelings.” The little voice in his head whispered nastily “one day he’s not going to come back to you. He doesn’t need you.” His fists clenched at his sides while his breathing rate increased quickly. He started shaking.

“Dean?”  
Oh god, what if Cas never came back one day? What would he do if Castiel got gunned down in some alley in the middle of nowhere for his wallet and never made it back? What if he never heard how much he was needed?!

“DEAN!” Warm fingers encircled him from the back. He panicked and flailed after finding himself scooped up and trapped in two cupped hands.

“Dean, copy my breathing pattern. In and out slowly, come on. In. and out. In. and out. You can do this. I know you can” Loud and exaggerated breathing came from the giant above. After a few repetitions Dean found himself copying the rhythm and slowing his breathing pattern. His trembling continued for a bit. Once his breathing slowed to a normal rate (with only a few small hitches in his breath) Cas moved on.

“I’m going to count to thirty backwards. Thirty. Twenty nine. Twenty eight. Twenty seven.” It was soothing, hearing his voice recite like that. A finger moved down to rub his back in time with the numbers. It helped him fully relax and end the panic attack. The finger moved from his back to his head, rubbing his hair back in a slow, tranquilizing motion. The reciting ended when he reached zero, but the rubbing continued. He wasn’t shaking any more now.

They were both silent for a few minutes. Castiel never ceasing rubbing Dean’s head, and Dean not looking up.

“Feel better?” Castiel broke the silence. Dean nodded.

“I've never seen you have a panic attack before.” The giant noted with an unspoken question mark.

A panic attack? Shit, Dean hasn’t had one of those since he was fourteen and accidentally broke a vase in Bobby’s house. The older hunter had found him hyperventilating on the floor next to the china shards and had calmed him down, sitting down on the floor next to him, making Dean match his slower breathing and counting backwards calmly like Cas had.

“Never liked that piece of junk anyway” Bobby told him later as they cleaned it up together.

No. that wasn’t the last time he had one. He’d had plenty of them after hell. Most of them had been mild and lasted longer, but he’d been by himself and managed to drink his way into oblivion to calm down. Dean took in a deep but shuddering breath, grounding himself.

“It’s been a while since I had one.” He admitted.

“What triggered it?” Dean swallowed and tensed.

“Is it me?” What?

“No! No, it’s not you.”

“Is it something I did?”

Yes. You leave.

“No.”

Castiel didn’t believe him. He knew Castiel didn’t believe him. But now Dean was thoroughly exhausted and in no mood to deal with any feelings. The coughing and then the tickling and the panic attack had all drained his energy. It felt like his health bar was at ten percent and fading fast.

“Want to continue the show?”

“Yeah.” The cupped hands shifted, sliding him gently into the palm of one hand. The other hand arranged his blanket around him in a crescent shape. Dean grabbed handfuls and wrapped what he could around himself. Once the show was playing the free hand was cupped under the other, giving Dean a better view of the screen as he was boosted an extra two inches. Not that it mattered. His eyes drooped ten minutes into the episode. A gentle breeze blowing down on him was Castiel’s breathing through his nose.

He was safe.

And with that knowledge he fell into a gentle slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap I have destiel out the fucking wazoo. I need to change them tags. No more “slight destiel”. This is getting to be some serious shit.  
> An extra long chapter because I have no idea when I’m going to be able to write again. Holidays are coming up and I have to help the family.


	13. Chapter 13

Dean wakes up to a soothing voice. Its not Castiel’s voice. He knows that much from the start. Nor the voice of his brother. But the male voice continues on talking. He’s not awake enough yet to hear what its saying. Its not very loud. He opens his eyes to see a machine on the screen of the laptop, and some guy with a shower cap on his head at the machine.

“So now there are three holding tanks at the ready. A slurry tank, an egg tank, and an oil tank. A computerized proportioning system….” Dean stops paying attention to the screen and focuses on his surroundings without moving. He’s still with Cas. That’s vanilla he smells. A wall of chest behind him moves silently with every breath.  
The warmth, the soothing voice, and the endless slight breeze from above lull hum back to sleep. The next time he wakes up it’s a female narrating this time. The video is about how canned olives are made. The pitting process is pretty cool. The video ends and another automatically begins. Must be a playlist. The next video was about how condoms are made. It showed a brand from Germany called Billy Boy. Dean had seen one once or twice.

Usually in a bar or with a girl. Never in a store. The company used an actual penis as its logo. Granted it was a simple cartoon with arms and a face but still, America would never sell condoms with a penis on it. This country was weird.

Speaking of penises, his bladder was not a happy camper.

“Um, Cas?” Dean shifts and lifts his head up. Even though the voice from the computer was soft, he wasn’t sure if Cas had heard him. He shouldn’t have worried.

“Hmm?” Cas looked a little silly with his head tilted in such a way that his chin nearly touched his shoulder.

“Can I get a lift to the bathroom?” Without a word Castiel pauses the video and stands up, Dean still cradled against his chest.

“You only have to ask.”

Cas leaves him on the counter, taking the handkerchief with him as he steps out of the bathroom. The cap was starting to smell like a porta-potty. Good thing he was so small, only he could smell it. There was less than 24 hours to this damn curse left. He could throw it out when he was big again. Dean is so ready to walk by himself everywhere.  
When Cas came for him a few minutes later, he had to explain how Sam helped him wash his hands. It made him feel like a toddler, explain to someone how to help. But Cas understood what he explained. They went back to the table after that. Dean sauntered off the warm hand and back on to the table. It was slippery under his socked feet.

“I’m gonna finish my walk.” Castiel nods and busies himself with the computer. Dean makes his way across the Atlantic ocean to Canada and then down to the good old USA. He started at New York and walked across to California.

“Fastest cross country trip ever.” He chuckled to himself.

He trekked to Hawaii, one of maybe three states he never visited. He made his way over the main island when the front door opened. The cool fall wind made its way inside. Dean could feel the crisp, autumn air flowing into the bunker. In walked a sweaty mountain of a little brother.

One interesting thing about being tiny, most of his senses were, changed. Most things farther than a (real) foot away got blurry. Almost all sounds were really loud and booming. Sam’s regular voice was like thunder. And not storm-off-in-the-distance thunder. More like ohmygod the storm is directly overhead thunder. Even though the guys mumbled and muttered when talking, it was still pretty damn loud. His taste buds were smaller which meant that things were tasted more intensely. But that wasn’t really important. But what it meant was that a huge, grey topped with brown towering form was making his way to the table. Dean felt every step vibrating under his feet through the table.

But Sam didn’t see him. Granted he was pretty small and must have assumed he was with Castiel. It was still pretty scary seeing Sam approach the end of the table. Dean looked almost straight up as Sam leaned forward to place his arms on the table.

“Sam stop!” Castiel warned, lowering his eyes to the table and bring them back up. Sam caught on pretty fast. Picking his arms up, he instead squatted, making his head level with the table, searching for anything sticking up from the flat surface.  
He found Dean soon enough.

“Hawaii? Dude, have you ever been there?” he grinned.

“Just visiting for the moment.” He yelled. He should really stop doing that. It hurt. Sam’s gentle laugh was a rumbling chuckle as he stood up and once again loomed over his brother. It was still a little scary. With one finger he gently reaches down to brush over Dean’s head. A giant, careful, and very annoying noogie.

“Wha’d I do to deserve this?” Dean groused as the finger finally retreated. Well aware that his brother couldn’t make out what he was saying from this distance when he wasn’t yelling

“Payback for years of noogies.” Even though Sam couldn’t hear him, that didn’t mean that his little brother didn’t know what he was saying.

“Wash up, Ape mountain!” the finger came back and gently nudged him over an inch or two.

“I’m gonna miss being able to pick you up with one hand.” He sighed over-dramatically.

Sam was a sarcastic not-so-little snot.

He pushed off at his knees and walked away, sharing a look with Cas. Possibly also mouthing something. Dean couldn’t tell. Not really.  
Dean walked up to Alaska, wandering around the small islands before making his way over to Canada, past Greenland (which was really false advertising) and… what the hell was this place? Svalbard? He hadn’t known that there was any land between Greenland and the top of Russia. Looked like it was a cold place if it was this far north.  
But Cas was close and that didn’t matter anymore. He was cold. Cas’s hand was where he had left it, parked by the big chest, palm up. The bigger man glanced down once or twice to him, but continued with whatever he was doing on the computer. Once Dean got close enough to see the screen however, he closed the window of whatever he was doing. Dean wasn’t surprised. Some people like their privacy on the interwebs.  
He climbed back into the hand, letting out a sigh of relief from the heat emitted from the skin beneath him. Once he got settled back into his previous spot, the other hand reached out and passed something big and white to him.

“Popcorn?”

The kernel was big. Like almost his size. But when he took it, he was surprised that it was like Styrofoam. Big but light. Avoiding the orange shell like stuff (no danger about it getting stuck in his teeth) he broke off a nice sized white bit and munched. Not so bad. It was like a cross between Styrofoam and cotton candy. Softer than Styrofoam, but dissolved in the mouth kinda like cotton candy. Not really, but it shrank when the moisture from his mouth touched it.

“How is it?”

“Not bad.”

“Back to the show?”

“More killer clothes!”

“And pretty, buxom, oriental women?” Slowly, Dean moved his head upwards. A corner of a mouth was twitching, and the eyes were crinkled in mirth. Dean lifted one finger in warning.

“No.” he berated firmly. The twitch turned into a full on shit eating grin. Dean cracked under that rare smile.

“Ok. That was a LITTLE funny. But don’t ever do it again.”

Still grinning, Castiel opened the window if the show and went back a few minutes to when he thinks Dean fell asleep. Dean doesn’t say anything, just keeps eating his popcorn and watches the screen. Castiel eats popcorn. Picking one fluffy kernel at a time from the tin to his mouth.

“Gamagori likes S&M. not surprising.”

“S&M?” Dean pauses.

“You have a computer. Look it up when I’m not here.” Cas accepts the answer. They continue to watch the episode as Lady Ragyu announced a king of the hill battle.  
Dean nearly blew a gasket when Gamagori activated his outfit.

“He looks like a Ken doll! He has no junk! What kind of show is this?!”

“It’s an anime dean. Would you rather watch something else?”

“No.” Dean replied quickly. This was the last episode Cas himself had gotten to before Tai moved him on to a comedy movie. About a guy who dressed up like a woman to be with his kids. Mrs something-or-other. Started with a D. Whatever. It was not of import. What matters is here and now, spending time with Dean, as small as he is.  
Sam was right when he said that humans weren’t made to be small. Dean was sleeping far more than normal. Even if he was sick. So many naps in one day? He was not a newborn child!

The curse will end soon, he reminded himself. It’ll be over soon.

And then what?

And then, it’ll be back to uncomfortable silences and personal space.

How he hated that term, personal space. That was why he left the bunker. As happy Dean (and by extension, Sam) was to see him when he returned to wherever they were, within a few days, things became awkward again. Dean starts pushing him away. So then he leaves. And the cycle continues.

He doesn’t even think Dean notices when he starts to push away. Its little things. He catches Dean staring at him, and then Dean will look away and not talk until spoken to for hours. A few times he caught Dean walking out of a room when he walked in. Cheeks red and head low. Worst of all, Dean rarely touches him. Not that Dean ever touched him a lot to begin with. When he was an angel, sometimes he’d get an arm draped over his shoulder, a pat or punch on the arm. Or later on, the rare hug when they didn’t die or in purgatory. Dean hugs him when he comes back to the bunker. Dean was a good hugger. Castiel had only ever been hugged by Sam, Dean or Bobby, but he liked Dean’s hugs the best.

He liked Dean the best.

He liked Dean.

That was why this world was still here. All the choices he made were because of Dean, the Righteous Man, whose soul he saved from purgatory and body he re-created, atom by atom. He stayed by his side, rebelled against heaven, worked with demons, died, all for Dean.

“Hey Cas!” a small cry pulled him out of his thoughts. He looked down.

“You’re missing the show wandering around that head!” Dean admonished him. He took in a breath and relaxed, relaxing muscles that he wasn’t aware he had been tensing. Including his hand. The fingers uncurled from over Dean’s head.

“That’s it.” Dean encouraged.

“Ready to watch now?”

“Yes.”

Now would be a good time to talk, but they were both so comfortable. Actually, this would be a great time to talk to dean! He was small, there was no way he could run away from talking. No. It would be cruel to keep him here and force him to talk if he didn’t want to with no way out. They could talk once the curse wore off.

Besides, the show was quite interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI, I read the Physics of Superheroes recently, and the author of the book describes the physics of being tiny (like the superhero known as the Atom) and stuff like blurry vision and too loud voices is what would happen to little peoples.(like six inches or smaller) But the being cold thing was my own idea. Artistic license. 
> 
> As for the kill la kill stuff, I don’t know. I like the show. I thought Dean would like it too.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a different kind of intimacy

 

Hanging out with Cas was nice. Real nice. There were few times in the past where they just hung out. Like regular people. But nine episodes and three hours later, Dean was getting restless. He’s not used to this much downtime. The last time he’d been laying around this much… well, his leg was broken! But even then he was able to drag himself around the cabin, go to the bathroom, and get food from the fridge. Dean looks down at the giant palm beneath him and places his hand on the warm skin. When was the last time he touched someone for this long? The last time he had sex? When was the last time he even had sex?

Dean Winchester cant remember the last time he had sex.

Why wasn’t he so scared about that?

Sex was fun! But that’s all it was. Fun for a little while. Pushing away the pain to forget for a moment and then he leaves and there’s nothing but a memory that fades.

Dean tilts his head up and watches the big face above him follow the screen. Cas’s resting face was always so stern. A corner of the big mouth twitches with the hint of a smile as something on screen amuses him. That small smile makes him happy. He quickly turns his head to the screen because he’s been staring at Castiel. Not cool. But then again, Cas has never minded before, because he just stared back. They had these staring contests sometimes, just, looking at each other. Those blue eyes catch him and hold him down.

He wonders if Sam ever noticed their intense staring contests.

He shifts around, trying to get to a more comfortable position. After thirty seconds of failing to get comfy he gives up and stands. He touches his toes a few times and stretches. The spacebar clicks and the show pauses. The music pink girl is on screen. What was her name? Nonnon? Something like that.

Dean picks his head up. This time the blue eyes are watching him.

“I’m not used to laying around this much.” He admits. “There’s almost always something to do.”

“And now there isn’t. What would you like to do?” Cas was right. There wasn’t. No deadline. No saving the world crap. No leviathans. No duchebag angels. Well the angels were still out there. But a good amount of them were flightless and on earth. Kevin was studying the tablet in Garth’s warded houseboat studying the angel tablet. Thinking of which, they should check up on him soon. But right now there was nothing to do. There were always hunts. The good ol’ ghosts, vamps, werewolves and other creepy crawlies. Sam was probably looking up some right now.

He missed the easy hunts. The kill-or-be-killed. Back before they got messed up with demons, angels, leviathans, heaven, hell, purgatory and the goddamn apocalypse. He’s lost track of how many times he saved the world. Three? Four?

Oh yeah, the last time he had sex his daughter grew up in a few days and tried to kill him.

He tries to forget that.

What he needs after this is a good old style hunt. Like a vamp nest or a ghost. He’ll start checking the news as soon as he gets big again.

Correction: he’ll search once he uses a proper bathroom and shower.

He waves his arms around.

“I dunno. Just wanna move!”               

Dean’s been known to have periods of sloth like laziness. As few and far between as they have been lately. He won’t do anything for hours, usually hiding away with a tv or laptop. Usually a wank session happens. But the inactiveness only lasts for hours at a time. Then its back to work. Even research is better than this!

Ok, scratch that. Hanging out with Cas is better than research.

“So move around.” Castiel replies. His other hand lifts to scratch at his face.

Dean never knew that scratching skin makes a sound before he was shrunk. Cas’s nails over his stubble sounds like sandpaper on wood.

Dean stands up. And walks up the hand and on to the cuff of the sleeve. He notices blue and purple skin peeking out from the cuff of the shirt. Sam said that Castiel came a little banged up.

Castiel blinks.

“Dean. What are you doing?”

“Moving around.” He continues his trek up the forearm, stepping over and around folds in the shirt. It was a little big on him.

Was this Deans shirt?

Yes. Yes it was.

Well, not like he can wear it now. He continues for a moment before it hits him.

Castiel is wearing _his_ shirt.  A warm ball settles in his chest, its recognized as possessiveness. He’s not taking back his shirt. Cas can keep it.

Castiel shifts slowly, and dean grabs on to the shirt to keep his balance. Castiel lies his head on the table, ear pillowed on his other arm to watch dean closely. The upper arm is now at a more horizontal angle. Easier to tackle. Dean pops his knuckles dramatically and begins the climb. Which is more of a walk really. He’s walked steeper hills.

“I’m not a climbing toy.” Castiel whispers, a little amused.

“Quiet. Climbing toys don’t talk.” He digs his foot into the skin underneath in scolding. He walks up the upper arm within three minutes. Pausing at the head in front of him, he pauses for a moment, planning his trail. He crawls up the shoulder, over the collar of the shirt. The big head is leaning so that the chin is pretty much touching the shoulder. He walks up the side of the head onto a field of stubble. The small, rough, short hairs bend under his small feet.

“What are you doing?” the question rumbles under his feet even though the jaw not far from him didn’t move and the question was whispered so quietly.

“Conquering the mountain. I’m almost at the summit.” Dean continues up into the hair. Castiel’s hair is short but thick, allowing Dean to walk on top of it rather than wade through it. He pulls on thick strands and manages to make his way to the top, where the skull began to curve downwards.

“The mighty Dean Winchester has conquered the mountain beast!”  He raises his arms in victory.

“The mighty Dean Winchester is giving the mountain beast itches.” Castiel rumbles beneath him. Dean laughs and starts his way back down when his foot slips into the hair. Scratch that, his entire leg sinks into the thick dark hair, and he can’t pull it out! Oh he tries, but it only makes his other leg sink more.

“Uh, the mighty Dean Winchester might need some help.” He hears a soft and long exhale beneath him, and then large fingers move into his sight. They pat the surface of the hair ever so gently, searching. When a fingers find the thing they were looking for, it gently touches his front.  Dean wraps his arms around it as best as he can. As he’s slowly pulled away he wraps his legs around too as soon as he’s able. Dean feels like a koala bear. The finger curls into the hand, dean lets go and falls off into the palm as soon as it gets close enough.

The hand closes around him, enclosing him in a small cave. There’s still space around him. He can feel the hand moving down like an elevator. Minus light and monotone music. The moving stops and the fingers pull back revealing Castiel sitting up.

“First of all, never do that again.” Dean nods an agreement.

“Second of al never do that again.” That gets Dean to laugh. Its at that moment that Sam walks into the room.

“Dinner’s ready.” He announces. As if responding to roll call Dean’s stomach growls. He grasps his stomach with both hands. Climbing Cas really sapped his energy. He briefly wonders how much of a workout he got.

“I see you’re ready for dinner.” Dean looks up at the familiar face.

“Climbing a mountain works up an appetite.” He sasses back. Cas stands up and follows Sam back into the kitchen. Dean noticed that Castiel enjoys eating in the kitchen more than anywhere else. Dean finds his space invaded by the now familiar handkerchief. Cas wraps it around him gently. Always gently. Dean’s sick of being treated like a china doll.

There’s a large bowl on the kitchen table. The contents look suspiciously green from what Dean can focus on.

“There’s salmon salad for me and Cas, and fish and mashed potatoes for the carnivore.” Sam points to a plate that has small pieces of fish and potato on it, as well as a cap of water. Cas sets him down on the plate. Dean rushes over to the food and eagerly digs in.

Sam and Cas serve themselves salad.

“This looks interesting.” Cas comments with no undertone.

“it’s pretty good.” Sam confides, passing him the ranch dressing.

Once the edge of the hunger was taken off Dean checks Castiel’s plate. He recognizes lettuce. The tomatoes are small though, they must be cherry tomatoes. The black olives are easy enough to recognize. There’s also small, beige balls and something white and circular too.

“What’s in the salad?” he calls out to Sam.

“Lettice, tomatoes, chickpeas, salmon, olives, heart of palm.” He looks over his plate and shifts the contents with his fork. “That’s it.”

“Heart of palm? This stuff?” Castiel points to the white circular object with his fork.

“Yeah, it’s from palm trees. It might be a vegetable.” He pauses. “or a fruit. I don’t really know.”

“Sammy doesn’t know something? I’m surprised!” dean mocks. But he says it in a regular voice, so he knows that neither of the giants can hear him. But even if they could hear him, they cant make out his words. Dean’s tired of yelling to be heard. Especially when it hurts his throat like this.

Not long after, Sam and Cas are done with their salads.

“So Cas, you ate all your veggies, how about dessert?” Dean looks up at his smiling little brother. And up, and up, and up because Sam is standing up now.

“What did you have in mind?”

“How about…” Sam’s gaze locks on the miniature hunter. “Pie?”

“Pie? Okay.” Castiel’s gaze slides over to the smaller hunter. He cant tell what’s on his face but his shoulders are hunched. Sam opened the fridge and pulls out two containers.

“We got blueberry and lemon cream. Which I’m pretty sure is lemon meringue.” He sees that Castiel still doesn’t understand.

“It’s a lot of heavy cream mixed with lemon juice and pulp. Its mixes so that it becomes light and fluffy. It’s been in the fridge a while, but it should still be good.”

“I’d like the blueberry please.” Castile had never tried lemon meringue before, but he tried blueberries before, he knew he liked those. Sam passed him a small plate and the pie in the container.

“Would you like to share with me Dean?” the little head nodded. Sam passed Castiel two spoons. Castiel used the first one to break off the front corner of the pie, piling the spoon with berries, filling, and the crust from the bottom. The bowl of the spoon is full and heavy with the pie as Castiel slowly places it on Dean’s plate.

Dean’s eyes grow big at the portion of dessert before him. Its not an entire slice like last time, but the portion is still bigger than him, and is gently oozing purple blue filling off the spoon and on to the plate. Without thinking Dean saunters over to the spoon, drags two fingers through the filling and brings it to his mouth.

This is some damn good pie.

Cold, but still good.

He rolls up his sleeves and plunges his arms into the filling around a berry and brings it forward, careful not to get his shirt dirty. He manages to break off some of the bottom crust, scoop out some berry and a handful of filling on top of that makes a nice mini-pie slice. He drops to a sit and goes to town on his handfuls of pie.

He’s to invested in the dessert to notice that Castiel and Sam are exchanging “isn’t he adorable this tiny” faces with each other. The exchange only lasts for a few moments, both men enjoy their own pie slices in relative silence.

Sam perks up at the sound of tiny coughing. Dean has his mouth tucked into his elbow, hacking. Sam leans in close and offers a finger of support.

“You alright?” Dean swats the large digit. Sam pulls it away but doesn’t move away.

“I’m fine. It’s the preservatives.”

“Preservatives?”

“They’ve been making me cough. It coats my throat and I cough to get it off. It’s happened before.” He waves his hand in dismissal.

“No biggie.”

“That’s why you’ve been coughing?! I thought that was because you were sick!” Sam tries really hard not to raise his voice above a soft whisper. It hard to do that when you want to yell.

“I was sick. But the coughing was because of preservatives.” He insists. Sam sits up and sighs, dragging a hand down his face.

“I wish you told me that sooner.”  Dean shrugs.

“Forgot.” Sam sighs again.

“How’s your pie?” Castiel diplomatically asks.

“Creamy.”

“Awesome!” Since both Castiel and Sam weren’t close to Dean and his megaphone was forgotten in the main room, all they hear is a small sound coming from Dean.

Later, once all the pie is gone (Sam finishes the rest of Dean’s portion in two bites.) it’s unanimously agreed that all three of them should watch the next star wars movie. Since Sam and Dean watched 4, 5 is the next one on the list. Apparently this Tay girl showed Castiel the first Star Wars.

Dean had wanted to be the one to show him that.

Dean didn’t see the silent exchange that happened over his head. Sam had been the one to take him away from the table and then brought him to the bathroom to wash off the pie. After that they arrived in the movie room. It was a room for enjoying tv, and lounging. It was previously a nice sized office now stuffed with an overstuffed old couch that Dean found at a yard sale three weeks ago and rented a u-haul to get it here, as well as two armchairs and a Lay-Z-Boy from the same yard sale. The day had been filled with dragging, sore backs and Dean owed Sam a solid favor for dragging furniture into the bunker.

Sam had told Castiel to meet him there after he stacked the dishes. He forgot that Dean couldn’t see that far. Well, to be fair, Dean never told him that everything more than a foot away from him was blurry. When Dean realized that they were going to watch in the movie room, he debated on telling Sam.

On the one hand, he knew the movie by heart and would know what was going on, he’d be able to hear the dialogue.

On the other the screen would be really far away. Like several miles away. Not at all like the laptops he’s been using the past few days.

Sam had noticed that Dean was being unusually quiet. Especially with the movie coming up, he’d usually be chattering on about AT-AT’s or Hoth. A closer look showed that the little face was thinking deeply. A few moments later Sam lifted his hand higher to his face and interrupted.

“Don’t blow a gasket thinking too hard. What’s on your mind?” Dean jumped a little, his thought bubble popped by the loud voice.

“It’s nuthin.”

“A lot of thought for just nothing.” Sam wasn’t going to let this go. Dean caved.

“I can’t see things well, being tiny. Things more than a foot away get blurry. If we all watch here, I won’t be able see the screen.” He confides.

 Sam hadn’t thought of that. He hadn’t known- that meant that Dean couldn’t even see most things at his tiny size! Dean knew that face. Sam was internally berating himself for not knowing something.

“S’okay Sammy. Its not that big a deal, I know the movie by heart anyway.” While that may be true, Sam still wants Dean to see the screen. Castiel enters the room with a bowl of pretzels and plops down on the opposite end of the couch. Movie night was nothing new. Usually Dean would take the middle seat and Sam and Cas at the ends of the couch.

“We cant watch here. Dean won’t be able to see the movie.” Castiel’s head tilts in confusion.

“He can’t see things more than a foot away.” Blue eyes narrow at the hand Sam has cradled to his chest.

“It’s blurry!” Dean defends himself.

“So what can we do?” Castiel moves to the main question at hand. Sam thinks for a moment.

“I can bring my laptop here. You can sit on the corner and I’ll put the laptop on a chair and we’ll watch from the couch-“

“but you guys wont be able to hear it if its too far away and it’ll be too loud for me if you can.” Dean interrupts. This wasn’t a good idea after all.

“What if Dean watches online from the laptop on a chair and we watch on the tv with the dvd with the volume lower?” Castiel interjects.

The Winchesters ponder this. It seems like a good medium. It was set up as Castiel suggested, the only hitch was setting the movies at the same time. But soon enough all three of them were enjoying the movie. The chair Dean and the laptop occupied were to Sam’s immediate right, close enough for him to turn his head and check on the occupant on his computer. Dean fell asleep three quarters through the movie, lulled to slumber by familiar sounds of a galaxy far far away.

Once the movie ended, Sam gently picked up his little big brother and wished Castiel a good night, heading to his room. Dean snoozed on his heating pad while Sam went to the bathroom and changed into pajamas. It was early, but not so early that going to sleep was impossible. He sat down on his bed watching the little man, whose eyes were closed in gentle slumber. The curse would soon be over, and Dean would turn back to regular Dean. Sam thinks that this mini-vacation has been good for his brother. Forcing him to stop and relax for a change.

Maybe he should keep ahold of that statue for future use.

But maybe he thinks as he turns off the light and slips under the blankets.

Maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there. now I set something for possible future fics in a series. I almost never think ahead like this! *pats back* well done me. I have no more excuse for this "slight destiel" shit. I'm not one for writing sexual intimate stuff, but there are other kinds of intimacy. those i can and have written about.


	15. Chapter 15

Dean woke up. It wasn’t morning. Well, technically 3 am is the morning. But no one in their right mind would be up at that time. But Dean was.

Wide-a-fucking-wake.

He only knew the time because his watch had a button that lit up the digital screen.

3:06.

Dean wondered why he was awake. Maybe it was because of all the naps he took? No. he was exhausted when he took those naps. And was pretty tried when he fell asleep. Why was he so sleepy lately? Was it because he was sick? Or because he was tiny… little things sleep a lot. Mice and hamsters sleep a lot. He remembered this classmate decades ago talking about his pet rodents. They slept a lot but were most active at sunup and sundown. Dean was even allowed to hold an orange and white teddy bear hamster named ninja. Ninja didn’t do much. But he ate a sunflower seed that dean offered him. It was adorable.

They left that town a few short weeks later.

Dean rolled over on to his back, staring into the vast darkness. How many times did he nap in the past day? Five? Six? He fell asleep at least twice with Cas. No, wait, on Cas! That wasn’t much better sounding. He let out a soft sigh, remembering the relaxed time he spent with his friend.

Almost unconsciously, his hand starting gravitating downwards under the blanket. Ok, maybe being awake at this time wasn’t all bad. A large wind like sound to his left had Dean sitting up and stare at whatever that sound was. After the sound repeated, he realized it was Sam breathing deeper in his sleep. Oh yeah, he almost forgot that he wasn’t along in the room.

He lay back down and brought both his arms out over his blanket. Even if Sam was deep asleep, he wasn’t gonna do it here. Not with someone else in the room. He could be quiet, but there would be no way to clean up after. And as big as his blanket was, he still didn’t want to use it.

After a moment of deliberation, Dean pulls himself to his feet and makes his way over to the bottle cap of water. Even though he shuffles around, trying to feel for it with his feet, he still nearly falls into it when it hits his shin. He kneels and cups his hands, taking a long drink from his hand. It tastes a little like plastic. But water is water.  He washes his face, and feels better for it.

He wipes his face off on an opposite corner of the giant blanket and drops down to another end of it. He lays down, shifts around and shimmies out of his pants. Dean is surprised to feel something hard in his pocket. Its his phone! He forgot about it. With what little night vision he has, he can make out the shape of Sam’s head on his bed, face buried in the pillow. A little light filters in from the bottom of the door from the hall, reflecting the small amount of light off the small screen in his hand. Most doors in the bunker had a grate over the bottom part of the door. Dean wasn’t sure why. Ventilation? Whatever.It’s not like he’s going back to sleep soon anyway.  
He touches a side button. Oh yeah, he turned it off when he was in Sam’s pocket in the store. He kept his finger on the on/off button. The screen lit up brightly, making his eyes hurt.

And then the phone jingled with the wake-up tune. It was nothing more than a few bars but the short electronic tune boomed in the silence of the bedroom. Sam shifted and lifted his face from the pillow  
.  
“D’n?” he questioned, eyes almost totally shut with sleep. He squints at the small light on his nightstand. He moves closer on the bed to see it. Opening his eyes a little wider he can make out the tiny face that the miniscule phone illuminates.

“ r’you okay?” he blinks hard to try to wake up. A fist comes up to rub at the big eyes. With his night vision totally gone from the light of the phone blazing in his eyes, Dean can barely make out the features of the giant, familiar face. It would be scary if Sam wasn’t squinting like crazy at him.

“I’m fine. I couldn’t sleep, I turned on my phone and it rang.” Dean has to call out to his brother to make sure that he hers him.

“y’r alright.” The sentence goes up at the end, like he remembered to ask a question. Sam’s a little confused from waking up in the middle of a dream. Hunter or no, it’s hard to understand things when woken up at ass o’clock in the morning.

“Yeah Sammy, I’m alright. Go back to sleep.” Sam blinks hard a few times as his head drifts back down to the pillow he’s still clutching.  
Dean hears him mumble “sleep, yea, yellow….*yawn* wings.” Before he faceplants back into the pillow.

“Sweet dreams, gigantor.” Sam was breathing evenly in less than a minute. Half an hour and 36% of battery left, Dean feels more relaxed. Not sleepy, but more tired than when he first woke up. He closes his eyes and tries to sleep when he first hears the snatches of sound. Its faint and quiet but he hears the planging of a familiar tune. Not a guitar or ukulele, what-?

“I, once had a girl, or should I say, she once had me.” The words are like the softest whispers, but are unmistakable.

Its Norwegian Wood!

The music drifts in through the grating in the door from the hall. Cas must be playing it in his room. All of the bedrooms were in the same basic area, even if Dean’s room was around the corridor. Castiel was listening to Beatles music earlier that day. He must be awake and listening to more. Dean wonders if Sam could hear the music. Probably not. Its hard to hear even to Dean’s small and sensitive ears. Dean closes his eyes and listens to a few more classic songs before unknowingly drifting off into a peaceful slumber.

Dean wakes up a few hours later when Sam gets out of his bed. The rustling of the sheets were loud enough to wake him from his not-so-deep sleep. Sam pulled the sheets back over the bed and glanced at the night table on the other side of the bed. Dean lifted an arm and waved. (Unsure if Sam would notice that he was awake from that far.)

“Last day.” Sam greeted. Dean sat up and reached his arms upwards in a stretch.

“Finally! Now I won’t have to see your Rushmore sized mug every time I look up.”

“Well, if I drop you in my pocket you won’t see much of anything.” Sam teased, offering his hand to the small man. Dean knew he was teasing. But it still made him pause for a moment. Sam could drop him in his pocket and go on with his day. But he wouldn’t. After washing up and using the bathroom, Dean half expected to find Castiel in the kitchen. It was disappointingly empty when they walked in.

“I’m thinking pancakes.” Sam nonchalantly mentions, depositing Dean on the kitchen table. (With his handkerchief of course.)

“Black with burnt bacon?”

“That was one time! And it was years ago!”

“I remember it every time I smell maple syrup.”

“Do you want pancakes or not?” he asked brusquely.

“With blueberries?” Sam rolled his eyes but smiled.

“Sure.”

Even though Sam was the one on the constant health kick, Dean still liked sweet fruit even if it wasn’t his first choice of snack. If it could go into a pie, he liked it. There were at least two bags of frozen blueberries in the freezer. Half the pancakes Sam made were plain and the other were full of blueberries. Castiel liked fruit too. Sam made dean a small pancake, a quarter of the size of the rest of the pancakes, it was still much bigger than him. Sam squeezed out a drop of syrup next to the small pancake on a plate and set the plate next to Dean.

Two nice sized stacks of plain and blueberry pancakes were for Sam and Castiel. Sam ate his own stack, sneaking glances at his brother who tore off fluffy handfuls of the inside of the pancake, and carefully dipping it into the syrup and then into his mouth. Dean was extra cautious about keeping the sticky syrup off his hands and clothes.  
It took a few minutes for Sam to remember to get a drink for Dean. He used the cap from the orange juice container like yesterday. Dean gave him a sideways look.

“No coffee?” Sam blinks. He didn’t even think of coffee.

“Uh, yeah. Sure.” He empties out the grounds from yesterday and measures in two big mugs worth of coffee. He’s hoping the scent of the coffee will lure Castiel from his room. Dean wasn’t the only one expecting to see him in the kitchen. Before he sits down, Sam wets a corner of a paper towel and passes it to his brother, knowing that Dean never liked to keep his hands dirty.

Later, they leave the kitchen. Castiel hadn’t shown up. Sam covered his pancakes in saran wrap and left it on the counter, or at least he tried to. He actually had a bit of a fight with the cling wrap.

“It’s not, clinging!” He whispered harshly. Glaring at the thin plastic in his hands. Dean was amused at how his giant of a brother struggled with the flimsy wrapping. A third of the wrap had folded over itself and was refusing to separate. Sam growled and balled it up in his colossal hands, throwing the orb of useless cling at the trashcan. But its weight was so slight, it descended in a graceful arc three feet in front of the trashcan. Both brothers had watched it’s decent and after a moment, Dean picks up his head to smile at Sam and opens his mouth to say something.

“Not a word.” Sam cuts him off. Dean shuts his mouth. He wouldn’t say anything about the cling wrap. Not until he was at his proper 6’1 height. Maybe coat Sam’s doorway with it while he was sleeping. Heh. Another prank on the list for prank war yet to come.

In the end, Sam covered the pancakes in tin foil. Grumbling all the while. Moments later Dean was scooped up rather roughly. Dean’s yelp of surprise was lost as he fell backwards into the handkerchief he’d been standing on. He had trouble regaining his balance as Sam’s sizable strides took them away from the kitchen.

“HEY!” he yelled upward. Sam stopped walking and lifted his hand to his face.

“Careful with the goods!” he hollered, the hand underneath him finally stable enough for him to stand.

“What are you talking about?” his forehead was a mass of confusion lines.

“You picked me up too fast. I wasn’t ready for it. Be gentler.” He crossed his arms and scowled at one hazel eye. The big face was full of guilt.

“Sorry. I’ll be…gentler.” He whispered sadly. Cue the titan sized puppy eyes of guilt. Dean takes three steps to place his hand on a thumb almost the same size he is. He rubs his hand up and down the appendage in an attempt to show no hard feelings.

“I didn’t mean it like that, just move slower like before.”

“Sure thing tiny tim.” Nothing says it’s alright more than a round of teasing.

The next two hours were pretty dull. Not particularly boring. Just dull. Dean got Sam to give him is phone, which he used to navigate the internet, researching new hunts. Sam typed away at his computer, each click of the keys sounding more like dull thuds to dean. The most interesting thing was when Castiel came from kitchen with a mug of cold coffee and bedhead.

“Good morning Sam, Dean.” He greeted them, snagging a chair and sitting across from Sam and by extension, Dean.

“’mornin.” Sam replied.

"morning sleepyhead!" even though Castiel was too far away to make out the words, he still appreciated the sentiment.

“So in a few hours dean will revert to his normal size, right?”

“Yup.”

“Thank goodness.” Dean yells.

“What was the item that did it?” Sam points to a small box on a nearby shelf.

“I moved it over there for the moment. I forgot to put it ba-DON’T TOUCH IT!” he yelled when Castiel started to get up from his seat. Dean flinched and covered his ears with his hands. That yell had been far too loud, bordering on painful.

“Sorry.” Sam muttered when he saw Dean crouched over. Even Castiel gave a sympathetic wince. Sam pushed his chair away from the table and paced to the nearest filing cabinet. He picked up the file that was laying on top of it. He passed it to his friend.

“Here's the file the men of letters had for the item. It works by touch.” Castiel looked through the file, and then at Dean. Than back at the file. And back to Dean.

“What?” Dean asked, a little worried as he shifted.

“This file is wrong.”

“What are you talking about? That’s the file for the object.” Sam objected. Castiel restated his words.

“The information in here is wrong.” Dean makes his way to the other side of the table. Castiel places the file down flat when he sees Dean approaching. He points to a line of text.

“It says right here: This item has the ability to shrink a person to anywhere between three quarters of an inch and one inch and a quarter depending on the size of the person.” He  
picks up his pointer finger from the page and points it directly in front of Dean, who had strode on to the file.

“You are definitely bigger than an inch and a quarter of an inch tall.”

“Really?” he can’t exactly measure himself at the moment, but if Cas says so, than he is.

“There’s a ruler around here somewhere.” Sam mumbles, looking into drawers. Less than two minutes later, Castiel holds an old fashioned wooden ruler straight on the table and Dean tries to straighten his back as much as possible. Sam leans in close to see the verdict.

“You’re just under two inches.” Castiel declares, pulling the ruler away. Sam takes a seat next to Castiel, lost in thought.

“So why is Dean bigger than what the file says?”

“Perhaps the spell is fading off of the…obelisk?” he asks, checking the description.

“Or dean is taller than anyone ever shrunk?” he gets blank looks from the other two.

“I mean, people were a lot shorter hundreds of years ago when this thing was being used. Anyone over five foot five was considered to be a giant!” he continued to ramble.

“So a six foot one Dean translates to a bigger, well, yeah bigger, shrunken person.”  
Castiel nods thoughtfully. “What Sam says is true. Humans were shorter centuries ago. Not much. But shorter.” They all sit in silence, chewing on that idea.

“What time did you touch it?” Cas interrupts. Dean blinks. He doesn’t know.

“I’m not sure I –uh, never checked my watch. I was eating lunch when it happened, but that could be anywhere from twelve to four.” This yelling is re-agitating his throat.  
Sam shakes his colossal head.

“It was closer to two. That was the last time I checked before I came into this room sometime later.” He checks his wrist.

“Which gives us four hours, more or less to enjoy Tom Thumb.” Sam reaches over to poke Dean but finds his path blocked by hands cupped over his brother.

“Stop picking on your brother.” As Sam’s hand retreats so does Castiel’s. Revealing a tiny Dean who’s face is unreadable, but looking at Cas.

“I’m sure that if you or I were at his size, we wouldn’t appreciate being poked.”

“But dean would still do it anyway.” Sam pointed out. Castiel considered this for a moment.

“Yes. But be the bigger man.” A choked off snort makes its way from Sam’s throat. He grins widely and covers his mouth to hide sniggers.

“Be the bigger man? Cas, man, I’ve always been the bigger man. I’ve been the bigger man since my third year of high school. Dean always teased me about be a shorty before I shot up. So excuse me if I take the chance for easy revenge while I my brother is less than a foot tall.”

“Keep it up Sammy. You’ll find yourself swimming in your bed sheets one morning, me standing over you holding the obelisk with pliers!”

“Whatever peewee.” Sam gets up and walks around the table, sitting down in his previous seat. Castiel cups his hand gently around a standing Dean. His palm surrounding Dean’s small shoulders.

“Are you cold?”

“Not anymore.” He pushes back into the warmth of the hand. In two seconds the skin tightens slightly around him and he finds himself on his back in the hand that’s facing palm up.

Dean scowls up at the mammoth face. Castiel shrugs and pulls his phone out of his pocket, with earphones dangling from a socket. He asks a silent question. Dean nods. He places one earbud in his ear and the other on the table by his palm.

“Tell me if you need it closer or farther.” Dean nods again. A harmonica plays a steady melody and dean lies down on the hand, underneath the relaxed curve of fingers, in a safe, warm cavern of Castiel’s hand.

“Love, love me do. You know I love you! I’ll always be true!”

Cas has been listening to Beatles songs since he came back. It’s a coincidence. Just a coincidence. Yeah. Dean crosses his arms and attempts to stop a blush from coloring his cheeks. The music continues on,

And like that time slips away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a headcannon that Cas likes Beatles music, mostly the early stuff. btw, the last song was by accident. Cas didnt play it on purpose. but it adds to the Destiel-ness of it all.


	16. chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The curse is lifted!  
> And longings arise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this took a long time so that's why this chapter is almost 5000 words. (I usually aim for 3000) I couldn't decide where to break it so its being posted as a whole.  
> one more chapter left!

Time slips away, Sam on his laptop, Dean and Castiel enjoying music. Sam glances at the small Dean, feeling something wrong. He pressed his lips together slightly. It wouldn't hurt to check. He types a few words into the search bar, and within a few minutes his suspicions were confirmed. 

“Um, guys?” it takes a few moments for Dean and Cas to wake up from their music enhanced daydreams, but a few seconds later they were all curious ears.

“I think, our previous theory was wrong.” Sam admits. He hears a low buzz from his brother.

“What theory?” Castiel asks, re-stating Dean’s question. Sam rubs the back of his neck, feeling slightly abashed.

“Remember how were talking about the obelisk, and how Dean’s bigger than what it says because he’s bigger than people a long time ago?” Castiel nods.

“Yeah. Well that’s not true.” Another buzz.

“What are you talking about?” Castiel demands. Sam turns his laptop around. “I did a little researching and found that when this was made, the average man was 5 foot six. Not that much smaller than Dean. So it doesn’t make sense that he would be so much bigger.”

“Hmm.” Castiel pondered. Dean made his way to the screen, eating up the words, then made his way to Sam.

“So does this mean the spell is wearing off the thing?” Sam shrugged. 

“Maybe.”

“I guess we’ll know when it wears off,” Castiel checked his phone “in about an hour, give or take some time.” Apparently it was already one in the afternoon. Two hours had flown away.

“Are you hungry Dean?” still a little stomach. Not for much longer though. Castiel enjoyed taking care of Dean, what little he could. Usually the hunter abhorred accepting any kind of help. Even from his brother. Even from his friends. But Castiel was determined to do what he could while he still can. He had no doubt that Dean would hide himself away once he grew back to his regular height. If he grew back to his regular height. No. He will. 

He has to.

Dean turned his head up to his brother and cupped his hands around his mouth.

“Do we have any oranges left?” Castiel blinks. Surely he didn’t hear what he thought he heard. Sam nods, thoughtful. 

“We should have at least one left, I’ll get it. Cas you want something from the kitchen?” it takes Castiel a few moments to respond.

“A banana. Please.” Sam nods and pulls his chair out, disappearing from sight with a few steps.

“Since when does the mighty Dean Winchester eat fruit that’s not in a pie?” he goaded his small friend. Dean looked across the wide expanse of the table to his blurry wall of a friend. He silently jogged back to Castiel. Not even bothering to try and yell to him from this distance.

Once Castiel understood his objective, his right hand turned over, palm up. When Dean arrived, he clambered into the hand. Castiel wondered how fast Dean got used to the idea of being held in a hand. Dean motions for him to be picked up. Castiel complies. 

“Since I found out that my throat hurts because of yelling and something in the orange soothes it.” Castiel drums the fingers of his other hand on the table.

“Any plans for when you get taller than me?”

“Hell yeah. Using a bathroom and shower! Make myself a thick sandwich and finish watching the doctor sexy dvd Sam got me.” Castiel can’t help but smile at how excited Dean sounds to do these things. It’s not often that he gets excited over simple things. The last time it happened was when he walked in on Dean marathoning the Lord Of The Rings movies. Castiel had walked in on the last hour. Dean had been yelling at the screen most of the time.

“Being tiny is lame. Can’t do anything by myself. It sucks ass.”

“Sam told me that you tried to eat an entire slice of pie. Was that so bad?” Oh yeah, the pie. Dean had momentarily forgotten about the giant pie. The giant, delicious, warm apple pie, that was great.

“That was great. That may have been the only upside to this thing. The giant food. Hmm.” 

In lumbered Sam, two fruits in one hand, and his other enclosed around something. He places the fruit on to the table and opens his closed fist, picking up something tiny.

“Don’t want to forget your shoes.” He brings the two fingers pinching the shoes to his little-big brother, who gratefully grasps his shoes as soon as the fingers are close enough. Instead of sitting across from Castiel like before, he takes the seat next to him. Sam cuts up the orange as Dean laces up his boots. He didn’t think about his boots not growing back with him. Would they? It’s not something he wants to waste a pair of good shoes figuring out.

Once he gets his shoes on, Dean makes his way off of Castiel’s hand, and waits for his food. His arms go out as soon as Sam cuts the smaller piece. As small as Sam can cut it, its still half of Dean’s diminished size. But it doesn’t look like Dean cares because both Sam and Castiel try to watch him eat the citrus fruit without looking like they are watching.

Goddamn, it’s adorable. 

Sam knows it’s the unnatural effect of something that should be normal sized being tiny. He’s seen it happen with videos mice eating a tiny taco. Castiel doesn't understand why he and Sam share the same smile over Dean’s head as he bites into a small segment of fruit. It’s adorable, but why is a tiny Dean affecting them?

Dean can FEEL two pairs of eyes on him. He raises the bird skywards over his head without even looking up. That earns him a deep, reverberating laugh from his brother. Paying attention to the food in his hands, Dean can smell the banana that Cas peels. From the bottom up. They’ll work on that later.

Sam and Cas talk over his head about something. Dean doesn’t pay attention. Even though they try to talk softly their words are still loud and rumbling. If he’s not paying attention it sounds a little like thunder. Sam eats the remainder of the orange, because there’d 99.9% of it left. Dean watches Sam pass a section to Castiel, offering. Castiel takes it, but instead of eating it he just, looks at it and tilts his head, confused. He watches Sam bite into his own piece and after a quiet “oh.” He mimics the younger Winchesters movements. 

Sometimes its easy to forget that Cas isn’t a regular person. He doesn’t know some things, like how to do laundry, that tin foil doesn’t go in the microwave, that you have to go into dressing rooms to try on clothes, or how to eat an orange slice. He’s been picking up stuff fast, but Dean doesn’t mind teaching him.

Sam piles the peels in a stack, and takes Castiel’s peels when he’s done with it.

“I’ll be back with a napkin for you, don’t worry.” Dean was going to wipe his hands off on his shirt. He’d be able to take a shower soon. He checked his watch.

It was 1:30.

Half an hour or more till the magic moment when he’d be regular sized. Oh god, Dean can’t wait to be big again. First thing he’s gonna do is hug Sam and pick up that Sasquatch off the ground. Then Cas gets a hug and a lift-off. THEN the shower. Maybe work out after. Or something. Listen to music, bus he just spent a few hours today doing that. Watch a show? He’s been doing that the past few days. He’s gonna go for a walk. Yeah. That sounds nice. Not a run or a jog, heaven forbid he turn into a health nut like Sam. Running was completely unnecessary unless you were running away from something. For a guy that’s in such good shape, Dean hates exercise. If he wasn’t trained to be a hunter, he’d probably be overweight. He knows this for a fact. Not that there’s anything wrong with a few extra pounds, but he can’t get the jump on a werewolf with those few extra pounds, can he?

Dean’s so lost in thought that when two giant fingers emerge from the sky inches away from his face he nearly jumps out of his skin. His hand automatically goes to his back for a gun that isn’t there.

“Jeezus fuck.” He sighed, calming down and accepting the shred of wet napkin that the fingers offer him.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” Sam apologizes. 

“And I didn’t mean to put green kool-aid in your conditioner.” Dean grumbles, wiping the satisfying yet surprisingly sticky juice from his hands and face.  
Dean wonders if they can hear him at all when he’s talking in a normal voice and not yelling. He’s not even gonna ask when he’s this size. He’ll be big soon enough.

1:36

Dean has suddenly come to the realization that being small isn't necessarily all scary dangerous stuff. There’s a few cool things he could do. If he can convince one of the giants near him.

1:44

“Basically, you wrap some floss around me, I can go into the vents and check out how safe this place is.”

“No Dean.”

1:51

 

“There’s some time left, I can ride my record player!”

“You really want to risk ruining one of your records?”

“……”

1:55

“What if-”

“One more insane suggestion out of you and I will wrap you in the handkerchief like a burrito.”

“hmph.”

1:57

Cue tiny, (adorable) impatient pacing. Sam’s trying to read but between his pacing brother and Latin ghosts, he’s read the last paragraph three times without absorbing it so he watches his brother pace instead. Castiel is doing something on his phone, possibly taking pictures. Speaking of which.

“Say cheese!” one flash later, Dean was a pissed off munchkin.

“No pictures! I don’t want to remember this!”

“I’m pretty sure I do.” He checked the picture. Dean was close enough to his book that a corner had gotten in to the picture. It was good enough for size comparison.

“And now I have leverage.” Castiel tilts his head in all too familiar confusion.

“How can a picture of small Dean be used as leverage?”

“I can give it to Charlie.” Sam reply’s, more than a little proud of himself. Dean takes a step back, suddenly fearful.

“You wouldn’t.”

“You know I would.” Dean drops to a sit and folds his legs Indian style.

“Can’t give the tiny guy a break, can you?” he joked. A big finger invades his bubble and prods his side.

“Not tiny for much longer.” Dean stays quiet. For the last day, the paper megaphone was forgotten and so Dean has to yell to be heard. His throat feels sore and tender. He had strep throat when he was a teenager. It felt something like this from what he can recall. He hoped he doesn’t have strep now.

Time passes slowly but quietly. Dean knows both Sam and Castiel are taking pictures of him but he ignores it. The pacing keeps his blood pumping enough that he stays warm. Well, warm enough. Soon he won’t need the heating pads. Though maybe he’ll take one for his bed. He paces across Europe, Asia, and Russia. What continent does Russia belong to anyway? It’s not particularly important to know, he’s just curious.

“Its 2:05.” Sam announces quietly. Three pairs of eyes look Dean over. He’s still tiny.

2:10

2:23

2:45

3:16

Dean’s been camped out on the heating pad, trying not to fall asleep for at least a half an hour now. He refuses to use anyone’s hand because what if he grows big and hurts somebody? But his eyes are growing heavy and not even the thought of eating a giant bacon cheeseburger (which he totally should have done, preservatives be damned.) is able to keep him awake.

Both Sam and Castiel look tense. Cas glances at Dean every few seconds, like he thinks that Dean might run off and disappear if he didn’t keep an eye on him. Sam’s almost tearing the paper out of the book when he turns the page. Dean would be on edge too, if he wasn’t so damn sleepy. He’s about to lose the fight to sleep when he feels…tingly. He opens his eyes to realize that he’s glowing. And getting brighter! A bright light emanates from his skin, turning him into a toy-sized source of light.

“GUYS! SHUT YOUR EYES!” his yell makes them both look up in surprise to see Dean glowing like a firefly and growing brighter by the second. All eyes are shut when he gets too bright, so no one sees him grow almost instantly in all the light. Also, no one knows to move away, so Sam gets hit with a boot that wasn’t there a moment ago. The light around Dean dims as fast as it came and by the time they open their eyes, Dean is sprawled on the table. One leg on Sam’s arm, the other in the air off the table.

Its disorienting for a few moments, so Dean can be excused when he tries to get up and manages to flail and fall face first onto the hard, unforgiving marble floor. His skin tingles slightly, like the last few seconds of pins and needles.

“Ow.” Pushing himself to his feet a pair of hands belonging to Castiel help him up. He’s bigger than Cas again! He wraps his arms around his friend in a tight hug, lifting him off the ground for a second. Castiel slowly fits his arms around Dean, letting out a short surprised sound when his feet no longer touch the floor.  
Dean’s grin is nearly splitting his face when he turns around to face his brother, who gets the same treatment. (even if it is a little harder to lift the sasquatch, Dean still manages it)

“It’s been great hangin around with you two, but I need a shower.” Without running (he didn’t run away!) he quickly made his way out of the war room before anyone could protest.

Holy shit! It was glorious to be by himself! A hot shower felt awesome, especially with the great water pressure the bunker has. He derived pleasure from throwing out the bottle cap on the counter of the sink. By the time he escaped the steam filled bathroom (a hallelujah for plumbing! A double hallelujah for the fact that he was big enough to use it!) Sam and Cas were nowhere nearby.

Not that he wanted them anywhere nearby for the next while.

Once he was in his room with clean clothes, he pulled his phone out of his pants. It had about 20% battery left. When he plugged it in to its charger, the screen lit up, showing a text.

“Out shopping with Cas.” Dean texted back.

“target has a sale.” Not like he saw the stuff or the store even.

“thx”

Dean no longer wanted the walk. He probably paced a mile or two on the table waiting for time to pass. Right now, he was exhausted. A nap wouldn’t be so bad, would it? The last two hours were spent pacing and fending off the nap his body so desperately wanted. Without thinking he picked up the covers of his bed, lay down, and curled up beneath them, glad that he was wearing sweatpants.

He closed his eyes.

And opened them.

Something was missing.

What the hell was missing?!

Nothing in his room, and nothing was ever on his bed but the sheets, blanket and pillows, which were there.

So why did it feel like there should be something there?

It took five minutes of tired tossing and turning to realize what wasn’t there.

Warmth.

Dean had spent the past few days sleeping with a source of heat. Body heat and the heating pads. He missed it.

Grumbling, he snatched the heating pad off of Sam’s night table. Unplugging one of the lamps in his own room to plug it in. What now warms a portion of his torso used to be like a football field. Lying on his stomach has the not-so-big heating pad warming up his abdomen and a little of his chest. It feels artificial. It’s not good enough. He wants body heat. But, he couldn’t have that.

But the absence of it makes him feel, hollow. He wants someone here with him. He throws his arm over someone that isn’t there, frustrated when his arm hits the sheets. He brings it back and tucks it under his forehead. He wants someone there to keep him safe. Apart from the first hour or so of being tiny, Sam and Cas were always looking out for him, making sure he was secure and unharmed.(even though some things happened, but Dean places no blame on anyone but himself for those things) He was in the best hands, literally! Most of the time, and it made him feel loved. Made him feel safe.

Hadn't felt like that in a long while. t’s not even sex he’s craving but the comfort of another body.

But it doent work like that.

S’not like he can just ask Ca-somebody to just sleep with him. He’s not a toddler with a nightmare.

But he wants somebody.

No, he doesn’t want somebody.

He wants Cas.  
He wants Castiel with him, to stay with him, to sleep with him, to do other things with him, because Dean Winchester is a selfish bastard who craves selfishly and can’t have the thing he craves.

But Cas keeps leaving! He keeps on going out to who knows where for who knows how long only to come back to him beaten and bloody. It scares the crap out of Dean every time he comes back beaten. He also comes a bit more knowledgeable about the world, and with stories of the people he met, some more kind than others. Like the hippie in Texas who taught him how to smoke weed and knit. Or the store owner who brought him a sandwich every day for lunch.  
Goddamn it! Why did he have these feelings that can’t be reciprocated?! 

Why does he love Cas?

Why does he love the thing he can’t have?

Not like there’s anything he can do about it now.

Sighing, he closes his eyes for the well needed nap.

Dean wakes up after an unknown amount of time, hearing footsteps going past his room. Sitting up, he determines that it’s Castiel. The angel-turned-man walks lightly and quickly, unless it’s early morning. In which case he stomps until consuming coffee, in that ridiculous huge green polka-dot mug of his.  
Exiting his room, his bare feet tread lightly over the cold floor. His neck is stiff and doesn’t want to bend. All of that looking up at people for three days hurts a body.   
He pauses outside of Castiel’s room, the door wide open. Cas is busy cutting off tags off of shirts, socks and...what’s that? Dean leans a little closer into the doorway, trying to get a better look at what now resides next to the pillow on Cas’s bed. The wood of the doorway creaks, and Castiel looks up, eyes pinning Dean’s feet to the floor.

“Hello Dean.”

“Hey Cas.” He rasps. He coughs and clears his throat. It feels better than before but still not 100%.

“Sam took me shopping.” He gestured to the clothes laid out on the bed.

“I see. What’s that?” he points to the yellow and black thing at the head of the bed.

“It’s a pillow pet.” Castiel goes back to cutting the tag off the sleeve of the shirt in his hands. Dean leans on the doorway, crossing his arms because he has no idea what to do with his hands.

Cas looks up from the shirt and scissors on his hands and squints at him.

“You can come in if you want.” He offers.

“Yeah. Okay.” He steps into the room, unsure of what to do. He can help with the clothes. Yeah, he can help with the clothes. Most of the stuff is like hunter garb. Flannels, t-shirts, a few pairs of jeans and two sweatshirts and a sweater. Packets of underwear and socks. Some of it looks new, others show signs of wear. Stuff from a thrift store. A “new” pair of slightly scuffed but still very serviceable sneakers on the floor must be from the thrift store too. A nice white shirt still in its package must be for a monkey suit.

And the pillow pet thing.

Seating himself near Cas Dean leans over to pick it up. It’s a bee toy, but a strip of velcro on the bottom connects the sides of it, making the corners into legs. Pulling it off makes it unfold in to a yellow and black fuzzy pillow with a head. the entire idea is actually cute. Not that Dean would admit something like that. 

“Cute.” Damn his traitorous mouth. Castiel takes it carefully from his lap to place it in his own. He absentmindedly stroked the soft fur.

“It’s not anatomically correct, but it is nice.” Cas likes bees. Dean knows that, it’s his favorite creature. Dean eyes the stuff on the bed behind him. There’s something missing.

“Cas, did you get any pajamas?” 

“T-shirts and boxers will suffice.”

“It’s going to be winter soon, and unless you’re in a place with constant heat, that won’t keep you warm enough.” Because keeping Castiel warm and safe is important. But now Castiel looks distressed.

“It’s no big deal, I’ll lend you some of my sweatpants and long sleeve tees until the next shopping trip."

“Thank you.” Dean nudges his shoulder into his friend’s lightly. Small touches. He’s allowed that, right? After nearly three days of almost constant touch, Dean misses the contact. Almost like an addict.

“No problem buddy. You’ll pick out some after we’re done with this.”

“Okay.”

The next ten minutes are spent in comfortable silence as tags get cut off, wrappers get thrown away and items go into their proper drawers. All of the thrift shop stuff is going into the laundry first before wearing. That’s a lesson the Winchesters learned the hard way.

But that’s a story for another time. Dean puts a hand on Cas’s shoulder, grounding himself with small touches.

“Come on. Pick out some of my pj’s and then I’ll make early dinner.” Dean doesn’t need more than a second to know that look. Cas is confused.

“Pee jays?” he asked weakly.

“Short for pajamas. Come on.” He stands up and walks out of Castiel’s room, hearing the shorter man’s feet pad gently on the hard floor behind him.

“It won’t be an early dinner.” He hears behind him.

“hmm?”

“It’s almost eight in the evening. It’ll be a late dinner if anything.” Dean waves his hand in dismissal. He must have slept for a few hours.

“Doesn’t matter. Anytime is food time if you’re the one making the food.” Dean’s room is clean. Always clean. The only untidy thing about it is the blanket splayed across the bed where he got up a few minutes ago. And the heating pad is still there. Dean hoped Cas doesn’t notice it. Dean waves him over to the dresser where he opens a drawer.

“Pick out what you want.” Long sleeve tees and soft pants are in this drawer. Its pretty much what he’s wearing right now. Soft, comfortable things. Dean thinks about opening his mouth and stating that his room had better heating than Castiel’s room. Or that his mattress is better. Something, anything to make him stay, and to keep him here.

“I see the heating pad on your bed.” Castiel comments nonchalantly, his back to Dean and the bed, still picking out his sleepwear.

“Uh.” Dean has no idea how to reply or react to that.

“Are you still cold?” Castiel turns around, holding shirts and pants in his arms, but his face showed a bit of worry.

“A little. I’m just used to the constant heat and now that I’m big….I miss it.”

The silence between them is not strained, nor is it entirely comfortable. But it goes on for far too long and Dean needs to fill it. His stomach does it for him with an angry grumble loud enough for Castiel to hear.

“heh. I’m going to the kitchen for dinner. You want?” Castiel shrugs, but follows him silently, clothes still in his arms. There’s bacon in the freezer, and veggies in the fridge. A BLT sounds good.

“Cas, how about a BLT? bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich.” Cas nodded, taking a seat at the kitchen table that allowed him to see the kitchen. And Dean. Dean puts the bacon in the cold pan and heats it up on low, a sharp knife makes quick work of a big tomato. Sam has to sacrifice a bag of lettuce for their sandwiches. It would rather be with meat than other veggies Dean informs his friend.

Soon, two sandwiches are being happily consumed by two men. One clearly enjoying it more than the other. Castiel wasn't going to point out the fact that dean was humming happy sounds as he chewed. He wasn’t going to make him aware and ashamed of it. He found the little noises endearing. 

He’s interrupted from his thoughts with a question.

“Sam’s out?” castiel nodded, and chewed what was in his mouth before answering.

“He dropped me off with my things. He said he would be back later.” Dean sticks out his bottom lip and tilts his head to the side in an understanding look.

“He’s been stuck here with me these past few days. Probably at a bar.” Dean lifts his shoulder in a half shrug like he doesn’t care. Castiel knows he does. Dean always gets a little upset when he can’t take care of Sam. He doesn’t like to show it either. The sandwiches are consumed quickly, and dishes are dropped off in the sink with a promise of doing them tomorrow.

Castiel’s a little surprised at how Dean’s been so close to him the past hour. Dean’s been the one in his space, touching and nudging. This is confusing to say the least.  
What Castiel expected was awkwardness and not seeing Dean for at least a day if not more. He knew Dean. But Dean was hanging around him! Initiating contact and offering his clothes. These were leaps and bounds in a direction that Castiel had only hoped for. And was almost the exact opposite of what he was expecting at this time. He considered this while they walked side by side down the long hallways to the bedroom area, clothes in his hands. Dean’s room was closer. He paused at his closed door, and turned his head to face Castiel.

“Uhh.” His Adams apple bobbed. His eyes shifted from Castiel’s face to the floor.

“Ah, goodnight Cas.” He uttered quietly, looking defeated.

“Is something wrong?”

“No.” Dean nearly spat. Nothing was wrong. But it could be better. 

“Goodnight Cas.” He sighed morosely hanging his head. He didn’t even look at the other man as he walked into his room and closed the door behind himself. He covered his face with his hands and let out a long moan of despair.

“Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.” He berated himself. “Why would Cas want to stay with a looser like you?” he dropped face first into his bed, ready to sleep and shut out the world.

In his own room, Castiel changed into his new pajamas. They smelled like Dean. In a rare moment of self-indulgence, he lifted the collar over his nose and sniffed. Oh, yes. Underneath the fake flower scent, gunpowder, and that scent that was purely Dean. Even though the shirt was clean and smelled like the detergent that Sam liked to use, it still was in Deans room and smelled a little like him. Keeping the shirt over his nose he sat down on his bed. Sam had given him a few books to read. One of them was the Game of Thrones book he and Dean were fond of. The other was the children’s book they read the other day.

The cover was a simple yet messy drawing of a man with ears the size of his head, holding young girl in the palm of his hand. He’s a little skeptical, but Sam highly recommended the book. He’s quickly immersed in the story of Sophie the orphan, and how she’s taken from the orphanage by a giant, the BFG, Big Friendly Giant he called himself. Moving through the story, Castiel finds parallels in his life and the book. He was once a giant compared to humans. He made friends who taught him about humanity. Those friends were threatened by his brethren, and he and his friends defeated the evil who wanted to destroy humanity. And now he was living with his friends.

Sophie and her friend the BFG work on a plan to take out the other nasty giants who gobble up people and run like the wind. When Sophie mentions letting in a government power know about the giants, Castiel scoffs. He’s worked with police before. They aren’t all that amazing as the child claims they are.  
Twenty more pages and his eyes start to droop.

Sleep, while entirely necessary for a healthy human body, was bothersome. Castiel found out that his body only needed 6 to 7 hours of sleep a night to be energetic the next day. Any less and he became sluggish and grumpy.  
He didn't want to sleep. He wanted to keep reading. But like a determined yet exhausted toddler, his eyes closed without permission in mere minutes and he slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> like I said at the beginning, one more chapter left to this story!  
> AND THEN A SEQUEL!  
> YES! THE OBELISK WILL BE USED AGAIN! AND THIS TIME.... well, you'll just have to wait and see.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is the end, my friends. I'm sorry it took so long,the last third was written within the past week when I realized how much I needed to finish this.
> 
> to my readers: thank you

Dean awoke to the sound of screaming.

He immediately went for the gun under his pillow, and he was out the door in three seconds. The second scream was recognizable as coming down the hall from Castiel’s room. Dean ran threw open the door to find his friend not being tortured by demons like he had thought, but instead being tortured by a nightmare. He clicked the safety on the gun and slipped it behind his back, unsure of how to approach the man on the bed struggling with his blanket. As he made his way to the bed, the pounding footsteps of the younger Winchester approached, also with a gun in hand.

Dean felt proud for a moment before turning his attention back to another muffled scream. Castiel was thrashing hard enough to hurt himself. His back arched as he fought an invisible enemy.

“Sam grab his legs.” The brothers moved in, Sam bear hugged Castiel’s kicking legs and Dean went for his wrists. His nails were bloody, and there were long scratches and bright bruises on his arm. Dean climbed up and straddled Castiel’s torso, keeping most of his weight on his knees, enough to keep him down.

“Cas! Wake up! It’s a nightmare but you can wake up!” Castiel tried to buck them off with another heart wrenching scream.

“Cas, buddy, c’mon! It’s just a dream man, you can fight it. Just a dream!” the screams taper off and the writing slows. Dean continues to encourage Castiel to end the dream, and finally the writhing slows and ends. Castiel blinks hard at the face in the darkness above him. 

“Dean?” He whispers, sounding broken, Sam slowly removes himself off of the legs that are no longer threatening to kick.

“Yeah Cas, It’s me and Sam. You were having one helluva nightmare.” Dean moves off his friend and brings the writs he’s holding down to the chest. He rubs a hand through the sweat soaked scalp of his friend. Even though he’s awake, Castiel is trembling badly.

“Sam, go get me a first aid kit will ya? Looks like he scratched himself up pretty badly.” Sam nods in the light coming in from the open door and walks out, leaving dean alone with a shaking Castiel.

Slowly, Dean sits down on the bed, next to Castiel’s supine form. As soon as he gets close enough, Castel reaches out and wraps his arms around Dean’s waist. Burying his face in the soft material of the pants over Dean’s thigh. Dean continues to rub his hand through the short black hair. Dean can see the scratches on Castiel’s arms where he scratched himself, there’s also one under his shirt that’s slowly staining the borrowed shirt. It hurts to see Castiel in pain. From the physical and the mental. At least the physical could be easily fixed. The mental will just have to wait till the Band-Aids and or stitches were done.

Now it was his turn to take care of Cas.

Sam arrives with the kit and Dean shoos him out, telling his brother that he had this under control, but asked to turn the light on. Dean removed his friends’ arms from his hips, all the while gently explaing to him that he needs to bandage the wounds. He props Castiel up against the head board. The man looks like he’s holding back tears. 

“Nightmare?” Dean asks while cleaning the scratches. Cas lets out a shaking breath and nods, his head low. Dean picks up the shirt to find three relatively small scratches under his tattoo, and on the opposite side of the torso, a bright blue and purple bruise in the shape of a boot tells a different story.

“Luckily you didn’t scratch anything too hard, all these need is cleaning and some Band-Aids.” True to what he said, soon all the blood is wiped away and bandaged. Once that was done Dean takes a wet wipe and sits sideways on the bed, cleaning out the gunk and blood from Castiel’s hands.

“Want to talk about the nightmare?” he asks nonchalantly, not lifting his eyes from where he was cleaning blood off of a finger.

“I fell.” Dean is silent, continuing with the task at hand.

“I prevented my siblings from falling but I fell from heaven.” The hand Dean isn’t holding flex on the sheets. His voice is a whisper.

“And now….” He trails off, barely speaking.

“And now what?” Dean gently prompts, looking up into a normally stoic face that’s breaking. 

“And now I’m human. I’m weak and human.” He morosely concludes. He weakly gestures to the scratches and bruises on his arms and chest. 

Dean sometimes forgets that Castiel used to be a being composed of energy and light the size of the Chrysler Building. All of what used to be now reduced into a body that needs to eat and drink and walk to get places instead of flying. Dean sometimes forgets that Castiel was more than the vessel of Jimmy Novak. Dean forgets that his best friend doesn’t know how to use things because he previously had no need for them.  
Angels weren’t tied to bodies like humans were.

Like Castiel is now.

Because he wasn’t an angel anymore. Cleaning off the last finger, Dean lets out a long sigh and finds himself sitting next to Castiel on the bed, holding his friend in his arms.

“let it out buddy. Just let it out.” He does. Castiel clings to Dean, fingers in his shirt and face in his shoulder while he cries remembering what he once was. For what he now is. Dean’s shirt gets wet with tears and snot, he doesn’t mention it and says nothing but soothing murmurs to calm down his friend. Its oddly comforting to comfort someone else.He didn’t know that his friend was feeling these things about being human.

It takes a long while, but eventually the tears slow. Castiel says nothing, Face still buried in Dean’s shoulder but the arms around his back do relax a bit. Every other breath catches but its slowing down. Dean isn’t letting go any time soon. Only when Castiel’s breathes has calmed down almost all of the way does he talk.

“Better?” he feels the nod against his neck and Castiel isn’t moving away. This position is no longer comfortable. But Dean doesn’t want to leave. Maybe…

“Cas.” The body against him stiffens slightly. He wouldn't have known if it wasn’t pressed against him.

“Cas, this position is a little uncomfortable. Can we lay down?” the body stiffens but then relaxes when Castiel realizes what Dean wants. He nods again. Dean leads them both lower down on the bed. Castiel tucks himself under Dean’s head and chest. This time grasping the front of his shirt. On the other hand Dean wraps the arm that he can over Cas’s back. He doesn’t mind if Cas’s feet get a bit tangled with his own. This feels right, being like this. Dean rubs Castiels back in long, soothing motions. He can feel the muscles slowly relax under his ministrations.

“I know being human isn’t as amazing as being an angel, but is it really all that bad?” he wondered. “There are some things that are good. Like pie. Good music. Uh, sunshine, the smell of rain, and other stuff.”

“There’s kindness.” Castiel softly speaks into Dean’s chest.

“There wasn’t much of that in heaven. Love for our father, yes. But not kindness for the sake of kindness. I learned about that on earth.” Dean hums a conformation.

“Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.” He gently declares.

“And soft sweaters.”

“And…” he trails off

“Nothing else?” Dean wants to know.

“And the pleasure of touching and being touched.” Now that one had Dean stop breathing for a moment. What did Cas man by that? Play it safe Winchester.

“It is nice to touch people.” He continues with the back rub.

“Most people need other people to touch. It’s a human thing that isn’t really explainable. Some people can do without other people, and some people cant. Some people have pets for that reason. They don’t like or cant have someone, so they have a pet.”

They both stay quiet after that. The only sounds is the air moving gently through the ventilation system and the sound of Dean’s hand moving over Castiel’s shirt. It’s a pleasant enough silence. Dean thinks to how much touching he had done the past few days. Due to his constant need for heat it was almost constant! He had almost always been held by someone. Maybe that’s why it felt so good to hold someone else. Or maybe it was because he was waiting a long, long time to do this.

Or both.

 

“I made friends with a cat in California.” Not what Dean was expecting to hear, but okay.

“And her very stoned but very kind owner.” That was a little more expected.

“He had excellent weed.” And that was vastly unexpected.

“Cas, you got high?” Dean remembered the stoned 2014 Castiel. Crazy, pill-popping, and still loyal as anything Castiel.

“As a kite.” Was the reply, Dean can hear the smallest of smiles in the answer. Dean’s shoulders and chest shook in a nearly silent laugh. Cas with a little weed was different than the Castiel he saw in the future-past. Best not to think about that. It was so nice to hold someone. Dean lifted his legs a little, making them practically touch the legs opposite him. He’s been touching so much these past days, but he hasn’t been able to give so much back. There’s only so much one can do at less than four inches. Their breaths intermingle in the silence, and both bodies relax into the bed and each other. Dean is surprised to wake up. He doesn’t remember falling asleep.

To say that they woke up close was an understatement. Their legs were tangled together, Dean had an ankle hooked around Castiel’s thigh. One of Cas’s arms was draped over his back, and both of Dean’s arms had made their way around Castiel’s neck.As Dean slowly extracted himself from his friend Castiel awoke.Unsure of what to do, Dean relaxed rather than panicked.

“Bathroom.” He muttered. Castiel nodded and pulled himself away. Now Dean was cold. The light was left on in the room so he could clearly see where he was going. But it wasn’t morning. Well, technically it was morning, but 4 am isn’t a time to be awake. Washing his hands after, Dean paused. Head back to his room, or go back to Cas?

A big, empty bed, or one that held someone waiting for him?

In the end it was a no brainer he settled back into the bed with his friend, too tired to think about the consequences of his action. He curled around the warm body on the bed, not even thinking about tucking his knees behind the ones in front of him

On the other side of the bed, Castiel was perplexed. He didn’t think Dean would return from his excursion to the bathroom. Too worried about what might happen tomorrow, Castiel didn’t fall back asleep, but to his astonishment, Dean walked back in with a yawn on his lips and neatly fit himself around Castiel’s slightly smaller body on the bed.  
This was more than confusing. But he wasn’t going to deny the cuddle. Both men fell back asleep comfortable and warm.

Most of the bedrooms in the bunker didn’t have windows. Dean’s big one didn’t. Sam’s room had a small one in the corner. But Castiel chose his room for the nice big window that let in sun in the morning. Too much sunlight in Dean’s opinion. He buried his face in the thing in front of him in an attempt to block out the sun. It was the back of Castiel’s head. Dean opened up his eyes to meet the back of a dark haired scalp. He had wrapped his arms around his friend and was the bigger spoon on the bed.  
Maybe he can just ease his arms out from under Castiel… nope! He’s waking up! Dean stopped moving as Castiel started to shift and wake up. Dean felt the body pressed to his chest grow rigid as Castiel realized what position they were in. Dean pulled his arms away from the warm chest.

“Mornin” he mumbled.

“Good morning Dean.” That wasn’t fair. Castiel’s gruff morning voice sounded like a growl, but it was still so goddamn sexy.

“You feeling better?” Dean asked, checking that none of the bandages came off.

“A little.” Castiel’s eyes were mostly closed in a way that spoke of falling back asleep.

“Any more nightmares?”

“No, something kept them away.” With that Castiel ducked his head but Dean still saw cheeks beginning to color. After the interesting wake-up came breakfast. Dean learned that Castiel didn’t know how to make eggs and promptly taught him how to make an omelet, sunny side up, and scrambled. Castiel liked all three.Of course, Castiel never objected to anything Dean made.

After breakfast, they both went their separate ways. Dean went to the exercise room and borrowed Sam’s yoga mat for sit ups. Not that Sam would ever know. It felt better on his lower back than carpet or hardwood ever did. And 50+ year old weights were still weights. Working out was something that let him zone out. A safe place in his head. Sam likes to jog for the fun of it, the fit freak, but Dean exercised to stay fit. An out-of-shape hunter was a dead one. Or one stuck in research duty. Dean thought back to Bobby, when the grizzled hunter had lost the use of his legs. Bobby had gone on a few hunts here and there but was usually the home base for a few hunters around the country.  
Bobby had liked Castiel once his duchy-ness had won off a bit. He put that out of his mind and went on to push-ups. One rough workout session later, Dean is very ready for a shower. He passes by his room to get fresh clothes a soft tune drifts down the hallway. Castiel is still listening to the Beatles! Looks like he’s found a new favorite band.  
After the shower Dean makes himself lunch. Halfway through, Sam comes into the kitchen and fixes himself a sandwich, same as Dean.

“Found a hunt.” Dean was wondering how long it would take Sam to approach him with a job.

“A ghost of a nanny who is get this, haunting the father of the kid she was looking after.”

“Well that’s a clear motive. Either he stiffed her or he stiffed her.” Sam chokes on his turkey. He glares once he’s done coughing.

“Dean!” he admonished. Dean shrugs.

“It doesn’t make me any less right.” He mumbles into the next bite of his sandwich. Sam wants Dean to have one more good night’s sleep in his own bed, (against Dean’s insistence that he’s in tip-top shape, but Dean is no match for the puppy dog eyes, even now) so they agree to head out early the next morning rather than that night. But that leaves a night for prep and, well, relaxing.

He heads to his room and packs his bag in ten minutes and then sits. He has nothing to do now. Sam is researching the case, probably a salt and burn, find the item that the deceased nanny is tethered to and burn it. Easy enough. Without thinking he heads down the hall. He knocks on a door. Castiel opens said door.

“Hello Dean.” Those words burn inside him.

“Hey Cas, I-we’re leaving tomorrow morning for a hunt, do you want to come with us?” Castiel thought for a moment, and then shook his head in a negative. That wasn’t surprising.

“Okay, do you want to do something tonight?”

“What did you have in mind?” Castiel asked, totally at ease. Dean shrugs.

“Movie? In the tv room?” Castiel bobs his head in a nod, his eyes focused on Dean’s own.

“In an hour?” another nod.

“Great. See you then.”

“See you then.” Castiel echoes back, slowly closing the door.Dean walks away. Okay. So, a movie, later.Castiel likes popcorn. He spends the next hour wasting time with games on his phone and making two pans of jiffy pop. He holds one steaming kernel up to his eyes. He was only a little bigger than this.He was so fucking small.He takes two bowls of popcorn to the tv room and settles on the couch, shifting to get comfortable. Castiel arrives a few minutes later, carrying his pillow. Dean doesn’t ask when Castiel tucks it between his side and the couch arm.

Dean doesn’t pay attention to the movie. He thinks he picked a western. There’s probably singing at some point. He’s just so aware of Castiel on the other side of the couch, wondering when and if he plans to leave next, why does he leave?

“Why what?” Castiel asks.

“What?” Dean’s train of thought derails as he’s brought back to reality.

“You just asked why. Why what?” something is happening on the screen, but neither of them are paying attention to it anymore.

“Why do you keep leaving?” at that question Castiel straightens and stiffens, his back becoming ramrod straight, like when he still had his grace and the stick up his ass. Dean watches as Castiel eyes the door, looking like he’s ready to bolt. Dan shifts, moving halfway off the couch to catch Castiel if he takes off.Castiel watches Dean prepare and sits back in his seat, deflating with a sigh.

“Why do you keep going off on your own without help? I get that you want to be on your own but you could at least let me-us help you set up somewhere with some credit cards and an apartment at least! But you keep going out and get shitty jobs and sleep who knows where and every time you call I keep expecting it to be someone else calling from a hospital!” Both Dean and Castiel were surprised at his outburst. Castiel’s looked morose, but that quickly turned to anger.

“Why do I leave? I leave because you push me away! Every time I come back you accept me with open arms and then a few short days later you reject me! So I leave! I try to survive on my own without you but I come back because I need you and the cycle starts all over again!”

“What are you talking about I reject you?! I have never kicked you out-” Castiel quickly cuts him off, nearly yelling.

“You don’t say it Dean, but you do it! I walk into a room and you walk out! You refuse to meet my eyes, or you disappear for days on end without a word of contact! You want me to leave so I do! And then you mope when I’m gone and accept me when I come back!”

Dean is beyond shocked. He didn’t realize that his actions was what was causing Castiel to leave. He was really acting that badly towards his friend? Castiel waits for a reaction. But Dean is too shocked to say anything. With a soft sigh he stands up and walks past Dean. Well he tries, but a hand at his wrist stops him.

“Cas.” Dean’s voice is ragged and a little wet. It causes Castiel to turn around into a tight embrace of Dean’s arms around him. It’s a socks at first but in moments Castiel lifts up his own arms around Dean’s back. They stay like that for a while, just holding each other. Soon Dean’s walls begin to crumble after the contact and affection that he’s never allowed himself to give or take is accepted and returned. Finally he manages to speak, in a small and fragile voice.

“Don’t go Cas. I need you.” His fingers dig in to Castiel’s back, holding his tighter. The former angel leads them back to the couch, easing Dean’s arms off of him. Dean looks miserable, but locks eyes with Castiel once the other man places both palms on the hunters cheeks, holding him in place.

“Dean, I love you.” Green eyes grow wide and fill with tears.

“I’ve loved you since I pulled you out of hell. Granted, I didn’t understand what it was that kept pulling me back to you but it was love! Dean Winchester I will love you till the day I die, and long after that.” He gently leans closer for another hug and Dean quickly buries his face in Castiel’s neck, trying to hold back the sobs shaking his shoulders. A hand rubs the back of his head, smoothing through the short hairs in a soothing fashion. He was so afraid that if he ever told him what he felt that Cas would reject him.

That Castiel would leave him.

But-Castiel said it! The L word no less!

“Don’t leave.” A husky whisper passes his lips.

“Never Dean. Never.” Castiel promises.

“Cas, I-” Dean sniffs and sits back, wiping a sleeve over his wet eyes. Castiel is waiting patiently. Nothing but affection and patience in his eyes. 

“I-I-” Dean’s cheeks heat with the shame of not being able to admit love for someone out loud. He drops his head, ashamed of himself.

“It’s alright Dean. You don’t have to say it.” Dean’s head snaps up to meet the blue eyes. Two smooth hands hold his own.

“I know that whenever you said those words to someone else that it turned out badly. You don’t need to say it.”

“But-”

“Dean. Do you?”

He nods.

“Well then, I see no problem.” Dean shifts so that he’s holding Cas’s hands within his own. He stands, pulling Castiel with him. The ex-angel gives no resistance, happily letting Dean drag him through the hallway to the older hunter’s bedroom. Only once Dean pulls him through the doorway does Castiel pull his hand back. Dean turns his head to see Castiel wringing his hands.

“Dean. I don’t- …” he trails off. This time its Dean filing in the blank spaces. Once more Dean grabs his hands. this time in a hold meant to comfort.

“Cas, we don’t have to. You never have to. I-” Here he pauses and takes in a deep breath. “Will you sleep here, with me?”

“Tonight?”

“Every night. Forever.”

“Yes, Dean.” Those words. God, those words, he never wants to stop hearing this man say his name. They climb under the covers, facing each other on the bed, just staring at each other. So overjoyed that they finally made it here. Castiel rests a hand on Dean’s face, stroking his cheek. Dean closes his eyes and enjoys the sensation of being touched for no reason.

“Dean?”

“Hmm?”

“I don’t think I like sex.” By Castiel’s previous reaction to Dean dragging him to his room he isn’t all that surprised now. Dean oepns his eyes to a face scrunched with worry. Eyes that search his own for an answer.

“Is that a problem?” Castiel worriedly asks. As if Dean will stop loving him if sex is off the table.

“Never.” Dean promises, moving forward to kiss Castiel's forehead. He stayed there, mouth still pressed against skin. When he imagined himself with Cas, he did picture sex, but now that he actually had him, the sex wasn’t a necessity. 

“Dean?”

“Yeah Cas?’

“I think I’d like to try kissing.” He spoke firmly. Dean smiled.

“I’m all for that.”

Dean shifted back down under the sheets. Castiel was the one to move his head first, placing his lips on Dean’s softer mouth in a chaste kiss.

“How was that?” Dean asked.

“I want another.” Castiel demanded, smiling. Eyes shining with unspoken joy.

And he got it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well then. that the end of minutus. it was a long journey. but there's another story coming! I've been working out the details but the obelisk is needed once again! you'll also learn how it was made.  
>  I have a ton of free time soon, so the first chapter should be up sooner than later.  
> Sayonara for now!


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